Living Life Through Fear
by ElphieBLW
Summary: Before everything, five brothers were split up in the foster care system. At first, they managed to keep in touch, but time and distance divided them even more. Follow Aaron, Will, Jason, Brian, and Clint as they go from humble beginnings to the heroes the world comes to know and love-or, in some cases, never know about. Five-way cross of Avengers, SWAT, MI, BL, and the Unusuals.
1. 1989-2008

Original A/N 11/5/15 - I know, I know, I should be working on Zeus' Dice and Hollow Heroes, this just bit me really hard while those two are on temporary hiatus due to writer's block and medical issues keeping me from focusing as much as those stories require. Plus, my current Renner-kick is not being sufficiently satisfied by Hollow Heroes since Clint only becomes truly important towards the end/epilogue (at least, if it stays somewhat close to my outline, which is doubtful).

This is a huge crossover, with Avengers, SWAT, the Unusuals, Mission Impossible (4 and 5), and Bourne Legacy. Basically, all the Renner characters are brothers who got adopted to different families and scattered across the country. I'm trying to keep most of these shows/movies as close to canon as possible (personal opinion, all Renner's characters keep family and personal life close to the vest, Natasha's about the only one who even knows outside the brothers and their adoptive families). The first portion of this will cover the boys growing up, trying to keep in touch, and how their movies/shows might have been tweaked by these characters having extended family roaming around. Also, for simplicity's sake, the original last name for the boys is Kitsom, chosen because Kenneth/Aaron's the only one who actually stays in the foster system until coming of age, thus the only one who doesn't go through a last name change (y'know, until the events of his movie and all).

 **Warnings** for mentions of child abuse and canon-typical violence and stuff. And for Brian's mouth, 'cause he curses like a sailor at times. And I'm completely making up everything about Skyland, NV, which is a real place, I just needed a small town name.

Oh, and just for clarification, Aaron/Kenneth is 9, Will's 8, Jason's 6, and Clint and Brian (twins) are 3 for the start of this. By the end they'll be 35 down to 29. I've got a rough timeline for them if anyone wants me to post that, though due to movie timelines, things get a little wibbly wobbly with the timeline, just go with it (yes, Clint's young, blame it on mashing MCU with Fraction-verse (which is beautiful, go read it!).

…So the "first part" showing them growing up and how their movies match up has run away from me and morphed into an epic, so… yeah. Started out thinking it'd be maybe ten pages max, but by the time I even _got_ to SWAT's timeline (which is post-Bourne Legacy but pre-everything else), I was at 10K words and nearly thirty pages. These boys certainly know how to draw out a story. As of right now, there's gonna be two stories, the backstory (this one), and the main story (yet to come).

 **Edit 3/22/17 - I'm working on Zeus' Dice and Hollow Heroes, but medical issues, depression, and a recent car accident make me kinda cringe every time I even start to work on them. I go into cycles of "but I need to update, people are asking me to" to "it's gonna suck if it goes up and everyone will hate it" to "even if I post something, I'm just gonna get more demands for updates" to "I'm just letting everyone down, anyway, so why bother". Lather, rinse, repeat. I started writing as a method of self-therapy and relaxation, but each time I get a review that is nothing but "update!" or "is this story dead? it's been foreverrrr", a little piece of me kinda shrivels up and dies inside. I can't churn out chapters every other week like some writers, and more power to them, but it drains me now in a way that, frankly, was what I was trying to avoid or lessen by writing in the first place. New chapters are coming, I just honestly can't tell you when, especially because this story and its sequel have become the only thing I can seem to work on (seriously, this fic is actually finished, just needs to be edited and split into chapters).**

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There were five of them. The Five Terrors of Skyland, as Ms. Torrez would say. The brothers spent every minute of every day figuring out their next prank for the small town and smaller orphanage. While most times, their pranks were harmless, even bringing a laugh or a smile to the worn-out women who ran the boys' home, they did have a tendency to go too far on occasion.

And unfortunately, that was why they had to be split up. No family in Skyland could take in all five of the boys, and the families that did take them in moved away soon after. Only the eldest, Kenny, was left behind, until he got sent up to an institute in Reno that was more equipped to help him get through school.

The boys all tried to keep in touch, as Jason left for New York, Will for Illinois, Brian to LA, and Clint to Iowa. That was the worst of it, when the twins found out they would be split up. It took three days to get them calmed down and agreeable, only the promise of keeping in contact through mail and phone calls reassuring them enough to let go of each other.

For two years, the boys all wrote and called one another, giving brief updates on their new families before rambling on about school and friends and, in Clint's case, new brother.

Then, Clint stopped answering the calls.

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Brian Gamble was, in simplest terms, an adrenaline-fueled daredevil. His brothers knew it, his adoptive family knew it, his best friend Jim Street _definitely_ knew it and needled him about it every moment he could.

But Clint was the show-off in their family, and when they were eleven, Brian finally got to see him show off again.

Jim was the one to hear about Carson's Carnival of Traveling Wonders, telling Brian and spending four days convincing him to come see the show. When they arrived, half the crowd seemed to recognize Brian, confusing the hell out of him until Jim spotted the flyer for Hawkeye—World's Greatest Marksman.

"Bri, this guy looks just like you!"

" _What?!_ " Brian spun, tearing the paper out of Jim's hands and gaping down at the purple-clad figure posing on it with a bow. "Oh my God, Clint! It's Clint!"

"Who?"

Brian blinked at his best friend, realizing that, while it was no secret that he'd been adopted by the Gambles, he'd never told anyone about his birth family. "Um, Clint's—Clint's my little brother. My twin brother."

Jim gaped at Brian. "You—? You've got a twin?"

"Uh, yeah? And three older brothers."

"Since when?!"

"Since I—well, since _Clint_ —was born!"

Jim blinked, then rubbed at his neck, blushing slightly. "Oh, they're your—uh, your—"

"Biological brothers, yeah."

"Why aren't they—I mean, why—?"

"Why'd we get split?"

"Um, yeah."

Brian laughed. Jim took everything way too seriously sometimes, never wanting to offend anyone. He'd definitely need to teach him to look past that. "Dude, it's _fine._ We were from a really tiny town, and no one could really take all of us in. Just wound up working out best that way."

"But, why'd you and Clint get separated? I mean, as twins—"

"The Gambles only had room for one of us, and the Bartons already had one kid. We've kept in touch, y'know, over the years, but—I mean, we—" He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Clint fell off the radar about five years ago. I guess we know why now."

It was at that moment that Jim pointed out the preteen a few yards ahead of them. "Is that him?"

Brian's eyes went wide. "Oh my God, _Clint!_ " He took off, calling out for his brother, but the other boy just kept moving, completely ignoring Brian and ducking into a tent with a very intimidating strongman standing outside.

Jim and Brian stumbled to a halt, sheepishly grinning at the circus bouncer before backing away. Brian sighed. "I knew it. He hates me. I should've—!"

"Woah, woah," Jim cut in, waving his hands to stop the rambling. "What do you mean? He can't hate you, he's your brother!"

Brian rolled his eyes. "He told us about his foster family. They were dicks, all of 'em. Well, okay, Mrs. Barton was alright, but she couldn't stop her husband from beating them all to shit and drinking them outta their house!"

"Hey!" Jim grabbed Brian by the shoulders, forcing him to meet his eye. "He's not there any more. In fact, he seems in pretty good shape, right?"

"Y—Yeah…."

"So, you know where he is now, and I'm sure he just didn't hear you, okay? All you have to do is keep tabs on this carnival."

For a long moment, Brian was silent, glaring down at his feet. Then, he nodded. "Yeah, you're right." He glanced up at his friend. "Thanks, Jimbo."

Jim squeezed his shoulder. "No prob, Bri. Now, c'mon, let's go see if your brother lives up to his stage name!"

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That evening, still excited over finding his twin and shocked at the younger's show, Brian got ready for his weekly call with his other siblings.

The phone rang before he could even pick it up. He dove for it, answering gleefully, "You'll never guess what happened today!"

 _"Bri."_

The preteen blinked, recognizing the tone in Will's voice. "What went wrong?"

A sigh crackled over the line. _"They let Kenny enlist."_

"Wh—What?!" Brian slumped against the wall. "But—But you said—"

 _"The recruitment officer added twelve points to his IQ score. Saw him practice shooting at the range and decided the army needed him."_

Brian slid to the floor. "That's—That can't—But… I just found him," he mumbled to himself.

He could almost hear the frown Will had to be wearing. _"Found who?"_ But of course, the teen was the most intelligent of them all and quickly connected the dots. _"Clint?! You found—? Where?!"_

"Carson's Carnival of Traveling Wonders. He's doing archery, of all things. And fucking good at it, too."

 _"Language,"_ the admonishment was absent-minded at best. Will was thinking things through. _"What happened to the Bartons?"_

Brian shrugged. "No clue. But given what he'd told us?"

 _"Right. Mr. Barton probably got drunk and beat them or tried driving or something…. Did you get to talk to him?"_

Now Brian was the one sighing. "No, couldn't get near. They keep close ranks there, wouldn't let anyone at the acts."

 _"Okay, so we keep an eye on the circus, and hopefully we'll get a chance to get to him."_

"Yeah…." Brian bit his lip. "So… they're really sending Kenny to boot camp?"

 _"Yeah. But, I mean, he'd be fast-tracked into sniper school, so he should be out of the way, y'know? Up in a nest, not in the line of fire."_

"Right. And he's tough. He's kept us all in touch even though we've moved so much, and if any of us could make it in the army, it'd be him… right?"

 _"Of course. We'll probably get calls from him over the next couple years about how boring and hot it is, just sitting around, staring through a scope."_

Reassured, both said their goodbyes and hung up, knowing that their family, though spread out, would be together again one day.

Six months later, an IED took out Kenneth Kitsom's troop in Iraq, and the boys found themselves down two brothers instead of just one.

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Jason, Will, and Brian all made their way through school and began deciding what their career paths would be. They each still kept tabs on the circus, trying to see it if it was ever close enough to visit, and they all continuously checked names any time a soldier thought dead or missing was recovered. None were Kenny.

And, about three years after finding Clint, he disappeared again, Hawkeye's name and act having dropped from the circus' line-up.

Will and Brian were determined to find him again, both choosing law enforcement as a major (double major, in Will's case, with a couple minors—college had a lot of interesting options for someone with an eidetic memory), and Jason encouraged them to do so, even as he got scouted for a baseball team. Brian ribbed him constantly for "trying to prove he had Clint's aim".

While Jason was in the minors just a year later, Will was getting recruited by the CIA as an analyst, which he proudly declared gave him more resources to work on finding Clint.

Meanwhile, Brian joined the LAPD after he and Jim returned from their stint as SEALs, and both quickly decided to try for SWAT. A few months into their promotion, Brian was approached by a balding man in a suit. Either Will sent a CIA buddy to spy on him, or Brian had gotten sued by one of the perps he'd shot.

"Mr. Gamble?"

Brian rolled his eyes. Definitely getting sued. "Look, whatever they say I did, it was the best choice at the time and LAPD backs my field calls."

The man's lips quirked, not quite a smile, but definitely amused. "I'm not here with a subpoena, Mr. Gamble. I'd like to speak to you about the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Department."

Gamble grimaced. "God, they make you say that all the time? You've gotta fuckin' shorten that."

"We're working on it."

When Brian realized the man wasn't saying anything else, he huffed. "So, what does the Strategic Home-whatever want with someone in SWAT?"

"We'd like you to part-time with us as an undercover agent."

Brian blinked. "A… what?"

"We've seen your track record, both with SWAT and the SEALs, and we'd like to have someone with your skill set."

The officer folded his arms over his chest. "SEAL records aren't available to the public."

The man smirked. "We aren't the public." He handed over a card. "Think about the offer."

As quickly as he'd come, the man disappeared. Brian glanced down at the card, reading, "Assistant Director Phillip J. Coulson, Handler, Strategic Homeland Intervention Enforcement and Logistics Department." Brian shook his head with a chuckle. "Should just shorten it to SHIELD…."

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 _"Wait, back up to the part about getting scouted by a government agency?"_ Jason was, admittedly, understandably confused.

"Yeah, I don't get it, either," Brian grumbled, twirling the card between his fingers. "Guy was unintimidating as hell, but for some reason, my instincts were sparking like he could fuckin' kill me with a paperclip."

 _"That's because he_ ** _could_** _,"_ Will stated. _"Coulson's practically a legend around I—here."_

Brian rolled his eyes. "Dude, seriously, just tell us what this new group is you're working for, it's not gonna matter _that_ much."

 _"It's against the NDAs I signed."_

 _"Bullshit,"_ Jason shot back, _"you just wanna be all mysterious and shit."_

 _"Language,"_ the eldest of the three admonished.

Brian chuckled, then sighed. "I don't wanna give up SWAT, guys. My whole life's here. My job, my friends, my—"

 _"Jim,"_ both teased.

He huffed. "Jim's a friend, you jackasses, that's it."

 _"Yeah, 'cause_ ** _everyone_** _follows their_ ** _friends_** _into the SEALs and SWAT,"_ Jason snarked.

 _"What's a little life-or-death among friends?"_

"You guys suck."

 _"Technically, I think_ ** _you_** _probably do, little brother."_

"I'm hanging up."

 _"Wait,"_ Will cut in. _"In all seriousness, give it a shot. He only offered part-time, right? Plus, it doesn't hurt to have a back-up in case something with SWAT falls through."_

"…I'll think about it."

Two days later, he was signing a contract and shaking Coulson's hand.

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"Okay, ya lost me, who's this Black Widow person?"

Coulson rolled his eyes. "If you'd read your spec files for once, you'd know."

Brian waved a hand dismissively. "We've had a lotta calls this week. Y'know I get distracted when there's SWAT ops going on."

"And Captain Fuller just okayed your request for one month's leave, given you have so many extra vacation days saved up."

"What?!" Brian's feet dropped from their spot on Coulson's desk, and his chair tipped back onto all four legs. "That dick! He just wants me outta his way so he can fuck up our ops!"

"Gamble."

"He always hated me. He tried denying my transfer to SWAT, can you believe that?!"

"Gamble."

"And he keeps dragging Jim into it, threatening to fire us _both_ for something he's mad at _me_ about!"

" _Gamble._ "

Brian flinched. "W—What?"

"The leave is for you to go after the Black Widow. You are to neutralize her by any means necessary."

"Yeah, okay, easy snipe job. Why's it falling to me, then?"

"Because she's an assassin trained by the Red Room."

Brian blinked at Phil. "…Uh, sorry, the what now?"

Coulson's eyes closed for a moment, the handler obviously trying to refrain from sighing or rolling his eyes. "Call Will. He'll explain. Wheels up in thirty."

Once the man left, Brian shrugged and dialed up his older brother.

Who was _not_ happy. _"Not the best time, Bri."_ There was muffled noise in the background, and Will was breathing odd.

"Well, hello to you, too, William."

 _"Get to the point, Brian."_

"Whaddaya know about a place called the Red Room?"

There was a hitch in Will's breathing, then a yelp and loud crackling over the phone. Brian pulled it away from his ear, staring blankly at it before bringing it back, hearing faint cursing in the background. _"How—How'd you hear that—? Dammit!"_

Two loud cracks went off.

Brian blinked. "Did—Did I call you during a _shootout?!_ "

 _"Focus, Brian! How'd you hear about—"_ Another round of gunfire went off, then Will was back. _"—about the Red Room?"_

"I'm s'posed to go after someone called the Black Widow."

 _"You're…?_ ** _Shit!_** _"_ There was a long moment where Will wasn't talking at all, and a machine gun went off. Brian was just about to freak out, but Will came back. _"I'm gonna kill your handler."_

"It's not that big a problem, dude, just a simple snipe."

 _"She's an international assassin for hire with an impeccable record. If she takes a job, she_ ** _finishes it._** _The only person anywhere_ ** _near_** _her league is a sniper she sometimes works with."_

"…Okay, not so simple…?"

 _"Brian, you see her, you_ ** _take her out._** _Do not wait, do not let her see you. If you do, she'll kill you before you can get a shot off."_

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As much as Will may not think so, Brian actually _did_ follow his advice. He found the perfect nest, up high and well hidden, and he had Coulson's voice in his ear telling him when his target was on the move and coming into his range. Sure enough, moments after Coulson's warning, a gorgeous redhead was in the middle of his scope.

Then she turned and looked straight at him. Brian tensed, finger on the trigger, waiting for some sign as to whether she was _actually_ looking at him or just checking her surroundings.

She lifted a hand to her face, thumb by her nose and her index and middle fingers straight up before she curled them down, and flicked her index finger beside her eye.

Brian blinked, readjusting his scope, and frowning a bit.

She repeated the sign, then turned and walked off.

 _"Gamble, what the hell's keeping you?!"_ Coulson hissed at him.

"Makin' a different call, sir," he replied, putting down his rifle and shutting off his comm before heading down, mind reeling.

He'd taken a course in ASL, mostly for laughs and to be able to insult people (Fuller) without them knowing. He recognized that sign.

 _Hawkeye_

Brian had just hit street level when he was grabbed around the neck and pulled back into an alley. He kept quiet, given there was a knife at his neck and a taser hovering around his upper thigh.

"You are not him," a faintly-accented voice hissed in his ear.

"No, but I'm looking for him."

The knife drew a little blood as she flicked the taser to life. "Why? I will not turn on him, and he'd rather die than be put in jail."

Brian felt nauseous at the thought. "I don't wanna throw him in jail!" he hissed back. "I wanna—I just wanna make sure he's okay…."

There was a moment's pause, then she spun him around and pushed him against the wall, knife and taser staying in their places. Green, narrowed eyes glared at him. "Why are you so concerned?"

"He's my brother."

The knife dug a little deeper. "You are Barney?" she snarled.

"Hell no! Barney's a fuckin' bastard for lettin' Clint get beat all to shit growing up!" Brian closed his eyes, trying to calm down and refocus. "No, Clint's—Clint was adopted by the Bartons, we were split up from our brothers and each other when we were four. My name's Brian."

"Brian?" The weapons loosened. "He spoke of you."

"Can't say the same." Brian huffed a sigh. "I've been looking for him for sixteen years, since he stopped calling. Saw him at the circus, but I couldn't get back to speak with him. We all followed the circus as much as we could, 'til his name fell from the headlines."

"Barney stabbed him and left him for dead when he wouldn't aid their thieving."

" _What?!_ " Brian nearly ran straight into the knife, instinctively jerking forward to go after Barney. "That jackass! I'll kill him!"

She shook her head. "Barney's gone. In the wind. Has been for years."

"Dammit." His brow furrowed. "Wait, how do _you_ know Clint?"

"I helped him, after he escaped the hospital."

"After he—? Wait, helped him? With what?"

She gave him an unimpressed look.

"…Oh. Wait, _he's_ the sniper you work with sometimes?!"

"Still goes by Hawkeye, and leaves an arrow in the eye of every kill."

Brian leaned back into the wall, eyes wide, head tipped back. "Holy shit, my baby brother's a merc."

"A very good one."

He squeezed his eyes shut. "Shit. God, Will's gonna kill me for this, he'll find some way to blame this on me."

"You had nothing to do with his success."

"You don't know Will."

She tilted her head slightly, ceding the point. "What now?"

"Well, Coulson's gonna also kill me for tossing my comm. But if you come in with me, it might help soften the betrayal?"

Her eyes narrowed. "Come where?"

"SHIELD. Er, Strategic Homeland—"

"I understood the acronym. I've heard of them. Glad they finally have a shorter name."

"Oh, they don't, officially. I just use that. I'm wearing Coulson down about it, though."

She pursed her lips. "Coulson?"

"My CO. Director's one good eye." At her raised eyebrow, he shrugged. "You'll get it when you meet the Director. And trust me, he'll wanna meet you himself."

"You were serious? About bringing me in to your secret agency?"

"Of course." He locked eyes with her. "SHIELD's different, y'know? They'll appreciate your skillset, you won't only have to work wetworks, and you'll have every single piece of information about each op. You'll know who we're after, what info we need, why we're locking it down. You'll have backup, a handler, and an extraction plan, every time."

"And in return, you wish my help in finding your brother?"

Brian stared for a moment, then sighed. "Yeah. I wanna bring him in, too. SHIELD's good people, I mean, not all of 'em, 'cause some of 'em are dicks, but… Coulson'd be good for him. I—I hope _I'd_ be good for him, that we—my brothers and I—could help him, but… I just want him safe and happy."

There was a long, silent moment, where they just stared at each other. Then she tucked away her knife and taser. "Natasha Romanov. If you are serious about your job offer, it's best you know my name, no?"

Brian grinned at her. "Brian Gamble. Let's go freak my handler out."

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A/N: Sorry about the ranting earlier. This story's been a labor of love for the past year and a half while I've dealt with recovery from a surgery, unexplained pain for a straight year, and now concussion and whiplash from my recent car accident. You'll likely see more of this than Zeus' Dice or Hollow Heroes because, frankly, it's less draining on me right now and this muse is biting more than either of those. I plan to work more on my older stories, just know that my current issues and mental health are kinda causing some writer's block for me.

Read and review, please.


	2. 2008 Cont'd

A/N: Told you this'd be updated much more frequently. Not sure yet how many chapters this'll be, but guesstimating about 20-25? I'll try to divvy it up this week to see. Time's gonna move slower in the next few chapters, and we've officially hit the first review of a movie in S.W.A.T. and technically Bourne Legacy, but less so. We'll get S.W.A.T. all from Brian's POV, so even those familiar with the movie should get something new out of it.

Warning: Brian's still got a foul mouth. Cursing will happen.

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Jason spun slowly on his chair, taking advantage of the lull in work to chat with Will. "Whaddaya mean, Bri's gone off-grid?"

 _"This is_ ** _serious_** _, Jason, Brian went after—well, someone who could probably kill_ ** _all_** _of us with a single move if she wanted, and now he's gone dark!"_

The middle brother frowned, stopping his spinning. "How'd you even know that? Aren't his cases, like, super-confidential or something?"

 _"…I plead the fifth."_

"It's really kinda scary how frequently and efficiently you cyber-stalk us, Will."

 _"Jason, he's been missing for_ ** _three days_** _. He could be_ ** _dead_** _for all we know!"_

Jason blinked, barely listening to Will's rant as an unassuming-looking man in a suit approached his desk. "Uh, Will, I gotta let you go, I'll call you back."

 _"_ ** _What?!_** _Jason, this isn't the time to—"_

"Not just to piss you off, Will, gathering intel. Let you know what I find out." He hung up and glanced up at the man in the suit. "Mr. Coulson, I presume?"

Coulson's lips twitched in a barely-there smile. "Detective Walsh. Is there somewhere we can talk privately?"

Jason stood, shrugging into his jacket. "Walk with me. I gotta grab lunch, anyway."

The two made their way from the second precinct, angling towards a destination only Walsh knew of and bypassing the Apolo, where the second's officers usually took their meals.

"I assume Will told you about Brian?"

Jason nodded. "Will glanced over it before ranting about what danger that could mean. I assume it's been resolved, if you're here?"

"Your brother decided to bring in an international assassin as an asset."

Walsh shrugged. "Brian's always done his own thing."

"He plans to do it again."

Jason paused, turning to frown at Coulson. "Okay, that _is_ odd. Why?"

"He's under the impression that he can find Clint."

One of the detective's eyebrows rose at that. "By finding an assassin? Wait, is there a hit out on—?"

"No."

"Then why—?" Walsh's eyes went wide. "You're—Clint's an—?"

"According to recent intel, yes."

Luckily, they had just arrived at the diner that doubled as Jason's home, and he unlocked the door and slumped into a barstool, dragging a hand through his hair. "…Damn."

Phil remained standing. "Your brother had significantly more to say on the matter."

Jason snorted. "I imagine he would." He glanced up at Coulson. "Clint's really an assassin?"

"A sniper we've been trying to get more intel on for several years now, and who worked closely with the Black Widow."

Once more, the detective gaped up at the agent. "…Shit. And Bri really thinks he can bring him in?"

"Given he'll have the Black Widow's help, yes."

"Right, of course he'd try to—" Huge eyes turned up to Coulson once his statement registered. "Did you say he's got her _help?!_ "

"She is the assassin he brought in as an asset."

There was a long, silent moment as Jason processed that. "…Holy shit. My brothers are insane. Every single freaking one of them are abso-fuckin-lutely batshit."

Coulson's lips twitched upward slightly. "Ah, you've heard about Aaron, then."

Jason barely kept himself from frowning. "…Aaron?"

"I guess you still refer to him as Kenneth. Goes by Aaron Cross lately."

And now he couldn't refrain from showing his shock. "…Kenny's _alive?!_ Since _when?!_ Does Will know? I'll fuckin' _kill_ him if he knew and didn't—!"

Coulson blinked. "Hm. Have him look into the CIA's Operation Outcome. It should be enough for him to go on. But, yes, your brother's alive and currently in the wind. Actually, looking into Jason Bourne and Operations Treadstone and Blackbriar wouldn't go amiss, either."

Walsh remembered hearing the story of Bourne in the news. "…He got involved in that shit?"

"Unfortunately. Received medication to up his intelligence, though."

"Huh." Jason shook his head. "Um, but, yeah, so… Clint?"

"Codename: Hawkeye, known assassin, ex-carnie after his brother—adoptive brother—stabbed him and left him for dead. Taken in by the Black Widow and trained to use his bow as a way to make money. Mostly took on contracts against drug dealers, arms dealers, and human traffickers."

"Worst of the worst."

"Better off dead," Coulson agreed. "Though he wouldn't turn away other contracts if he was desperate. Trademark was a single arrow through the eye. Often collected back when he could, but there were enough times he couldn't that we were able to plot out his pattern. An estimated 967 confirmed kills over his career."

Jason was scowling. "How long's his career?"

"Six years."

Walsh slumped back in his seat. "God, he started when he was still a teenager…."

"Unfortunately."

"And Kenny's alive."

"As previously stated, yes."

"…Shit." He ran a hand through his hair, then glanced up at Coulson. "Keep Brian and his new groupie safe, yeah?"

"As much as I can."

Jason snorted. "Yeah, he's sorta a trouble magnet, only one worse is Clint."

"An argument could be made for Aaron—Kenneth."

"In any case, bring 'em home for us, okay?"

Coulson nodded, and Jason stood to shake his hand before he left. For a moment, Jason just stood there, still trying to process, then huffed out a sigh and dug out his phone, ignoring the blinking _94 missed messages_ alert and speed-dialing Will.

 _"It's about damn time—"_

"Ah, shuddup, y'aren't the oldest any more."

 _"—you ca—what?"_

"Kenny's alive, Brian's teamed up with the Black Widow, and Clint's an international assassin with almost a thousand kills to his name."

 _"…Holy shit."_

"Yeah. Coulson swung by. Apparently you should look into something called Outcome and Blackbriar?"

There was a long silence, filled by the distant clacking of keyboard keys, then, _"…Jas, how'd you feel about taking a trip to Iowa…?"_

 ** _|_!\/!|\|6 |_!|=3 7|-||20|_|6|-| |=34|2_**

Marta Shearing—though she was going by Laura now—blinked when the doorbell rang. She knew, instinctively, after nearly a year on the run, that Aaron, out in the barn, had stiffened and pulled a weapon upon hearing the sound. As such, she felt safe to at least _check_ who was at the door. After all, they _did_ have distant neighbors, rare though visits might be.

"Hello?" she called, peering through the peephole on the door.

There were two men standing on the porch, both in suits and shades, though the one leaning on the railing was in shabbier shape and had thrown a long jacket over it. _"Ma'am?"_ the nicer dressed one replied, leaning forward a bit and knowingly aiming his attention up towards the peephole. _"We'd like to speak with Aaron."_

"I'm sorry, there's no one here by that name," she answered, feeling the man in question stalk silently up next to her. He must've swung around the back to avoid being spotted. In any case, he held a gun to the door, watching Marta's face for any signs of anxiety or distress.

The shabby man pushed off the railing and nudged the other aside. _"Sorry, uh, he might be going by Kenny? We just wanted to get a message out to him."_

Her brow furrowed as she glanced at Aaron, who also seemed confused. As far as the CIA was concerned, Kenneth Kitsom no longer existed. He gestured with his head at the door, so she asked, "What's the message? Even if he's not here, maybe I'll run into him."

Both men seemed relieved at that. _"Let him know that Brian's found Clint. That we're gonna bring him home."_ Message delivered, both stepped off the porch and got back into the sleek rental car that was parked in the driveway before speeding off.

Marta turned more fully to Aaron. "What—?"

"Remember how I couldn't remember very much of my past?" he interrupted, clearing the chamber of his gun and tucking it away. "I've been remembering more."

"And?"

"Those two, and the people they were talking about, they're my little brothers."

 ** _|_!\/!|\|6 |_!|=3 7|-||20|_|6|-| |=34|2_**

The one thing that absolutely, positively _sucked_ about working two jobs was having to go back to SWAT. Well, no, SWAT rocked and Jim was there, but being at Fuller's beck and call? Yeah, _that_ sucked balls.

So, Brian found himself cursing down at his phone while Natasha sat nearby, an eyebrow raised in annoyance at the buzzing device, her glare threatening to dismember him if he didn't make it shut up. For his own sake, he answered the phone. "'Sup, Jimbo?"

 _"Bri, we got a break-in at a bank. SWAT's been called, we're gearing up now. Where the hell are you?"_

"On my way, man. Just got off vaca, y'know? I'll meet you at the chopper."

 _"Fine. Twenty minutes, man, that's it."_

"Got it." He hung up, then glanced over at Natasha. "Uh, so… I kinda have a thing?"

"SWAT?"

"Yeah, my day job, guess you could say. Needa save lives and all that shit."

She tilted her head. "And Clint?"

"As soon as I bag some robbers."

She blinked slowly, then explained, "You'll need an excuse for being off-grid for a while."

He bit his lip. "…Yeah, I know. I've got an idea, but knowing Fuller—er, my boss at SWAT—I likely won't have a job there after this."

She stared him down. "Is it worth it?"

"To get Clint back? Fuck yes." He ran a hand through his hair and huffed a sigh. "Just gonna suck to probably lose my best friend."

She stood, moving towards the door. "If all goes well, you'll be able to explain. Either way, I need to do some research of my own before we can find Clint."

"Right. Any ideas where to start?"

"I heard an interesting rumor about Alex Montel coming to town." She shrugged a shoulder. "If Clint is running low on funds, that's where he'd go."

"Alright. You do that, I'll go shoot people."

"You and your brother are incredibly alike."

He smirked back at her. "Thanks!"

"Not a compliment," she called after him.

"Don't care!"

 ** _|_!\/!|\|6 |_!|=3 7|-||20|_|6|-| |=34|2_**

Will wasn't the only one in the family who could cyber-stalk the others. Aaron proved as much by pulling up profiles for each of his siblings. Marta watched over his shoulder, reading along, eyes wide.

"Wow, these are really your brothers?"

"They've been busy," he mumbled, scrolling through pages of info on Jason's transfer from baseball to police work and the girlfriend he lost along the way. "Didn't realize Jason was that into playing…."

Marta glanced down at him. "It's been, what, ten years?"

"Yeah…."

"Things change." Something else caught her eye. "Wait, one of them's with the CIA?!"

"Was. Says he got poached by IMF, whatever that means." He scrolled a bit more. "Mostly redacted, looks like. Will's always been an over-achiever and perfectionist."

"And… Brian, was it?"

"LAPD SWAT," Aaron replied, moving those pages forward. "Still a hothead, apparently. And part-time with… what the hell's SHIELD?"

"Why are all your brothers involved with alphabet agencies?"

"NYPD doesn't count."

"And yet, you use an acronym."

"…Point."

They spent another moment quietly accessing the pages about the three brothers before Marta remembered the fourth. "They mentioned a Clint?"

"Brian's twin, youngest." He dug up an old newspaper clipping featuring Carson's. "This is last I heard of him."

"Hawkeye, huh?" Marta glanced over the story. "Does the marksman thing run in your family, or is it just coincidence?"

"Dunno. Would have to check with the others, I guess." He flipped back a bit. "Brian might be, too, given his SWAT file."

"So, he's with the carnival?"

"Was." Aaron pulled up a different page. "Disappeared about seven years ago. Or, so it would seem." The next files he pulled were all about assassinations. "Meet Hawkeye 2.0."

Marta blinked, reading through the reports. "…All single shots, through the eye?"

"All with arrows, though he'd collect them back when he could."

"…Your brothers are insane."

"And I'm a CIA experiment gone rogue." He shrugged. "Insanity runs in the family."

 ** _|_!\/!|\|6 |_!|=3 7|-||20|_|6|-| |=34|2_**

Brian drew on everything he'd ever learned about shooting as he and Jim got into position. The idiot trying to rob the bank had just snagged a human shield from the hostages, and Brian knew that his only shot would be through the woman. Dammit, Jim was gonna hate him for this, and Fuller was gonna go into a full-on bitchfit.

But this was also his out to find Clint.

 _Aim. Breath. Pull._

The gunman dropped, as did the woman, and Brian and Jim both made quick work of the last robber before Brian hopped over a desk to check his first shot. The man was dead, but he zip-tied him anyway, knowing the shit SHIELD got into and having learned to never trust a dead body to stay dead. He could hear Jim muttering to the hostage he'd hit.

"She gonna be okay?" he called back, glancing over.

"I'm not a doctor," Jim huffed, but he kept up his mumbled reassurances.

Sure enough, when they got back to HQ and changed, they got called in to Fuller's office. Even their fellow officers congratulating them didn't make up for Fuller blaming them and threatening to make them pay up for the hostage's lawsuit.

So of course Brian was gonna push back. First chance he got, he argued his point, that they have little time to act and that what he'd done had saved lives.

"You're both off SWAT."

That statement froze Brian for a moment. No. No way in _hell_ were they gonna try to bring Jim down for this!

"—after a stunt like that!"

And the infamous Gamble mouth ran away from him. "Oh, I'm _sorry_ , I didn't know that saving lives was a goddamn _stunt!_ "

Velasquez argued for them to have a second chance, and Fuller barely relented, offering the gun cage. Jim scoffed, but Brian grumbled a curse under his breath.

And that was all it took. One more yelling match, then Fuller was dismissing him, permanently. Oh, and Jim was dragging his ass out of the room so he didn't pounce on the captain, but hell, he needed to release _some_ of the tension that had been hanging over him since finding out his fuckin' little brother was a merc.

"Street!" Fuller's voice called out after them. Jim pushed Brian into the hall before glancing back. "Stay."

Brian punched a wall, sure that Fuller was about to fire Jim, too, just for being his friend, but Street looked back to him first with a soft, "Hey," to remind him not to cause too much damage on his way to the locker rooms.

He left most of the walls intact, but several chairs on the way were flipped.

 ** _|_!\/!|\|6 |_!|=3 7|-||20|_|6|-| |=34|2_**

" _Walsh!_ "

Jason jolted upright, blinking in shock that he'd dozed off. Well, not so much dozed as just been in shock. His baby brother was an assassin, his oldest brother was freaking _alive_ , Will was hacking every CIA computer he could think of to find out more about Ken—Aaron, and Brian was off-grid.

And Sergeant Brown was glaring at him.

"Uh, s—sorry, boss. A—A family thing came up." He could feel the stares from all around the precinct. Jason Walsh did _not_ discuss family. It just wasn't a thing he did. Sure, he pulled pranks and laughed and teased with the others, but… his personal life stayed personal. Period.

Allison Beaumont in particular was giving him that raised eyebrow look. Even _she_ didn't know about his biological brothers, just that he'd been adopted like she was, and she was probably the best friend he had on the force. And his partner Kowalski had that smirk on his face that meant he thought Jason was actually being a pervert for once and caught watching something he shouldn't on his computer.

Which was rich, coming from him, since Jason knew for a fact Kowalski was stepping out on his wife.

"Family thing?" Sergeant Brown echoed. As his superior officer, he was the only one in the precinct who knew about Jason's family.

"Yessir," Jason replied, nodding slightly. "Apparently, a cousin's decided to drop off the map, and my aunt was a little panicky."

It was a code, and Brown knew it. Will might have quite a bit to say to him about calling him an aunt, but he sure as hell mother-henned too much to be called anything less. "Do you need to help with the search?"

Jason appreciated the out, but he knew Brian too well. "Nah. 'S not the first time he's pulled this. He'll be back soon enough, she just worries too much."

Now Brown nodded, moving forward and dropping a file on Jason's desk. "Good. Then you and Kowalski can check out the supposed time traveler that's run amok through three strip malls in four days."

"Yes, sir."

 ** _|_!\/!|\|6 |_!|=3 7|-||20|_|6|-| |=34|2_**

Jim went immediately to the sink when he entered the locker room as Brian was stripping out of his uniform and into a tee and jeans. "Y'shouldn't egg him on," Jim muttered.

"He started it," Brian shot back childishly.

For once, it didn't cause Jim to laugh.

Brian bit his lip as he heard the sink turn on. This was it. He was about to lose his best friend, but… Jim had always known family was important to Brian. He just hoped he'd be able to explain one day.

"Let's get the hell outta here," he huffed, slamming his bag to the floor. "I need a cocktail."

"…I'm staying."

The relief that his own stupidity hadn't cost Jim his job warred with the anger that his friend hadn't stuck up for him. "…You what?" He kept himself from turning, knowing Jim would notice he wasn't entirely angry if he did. "After _that?_ "

"Couple months, Fuller'll find some new asses to chew out, and we'll be back on the team."

Gamble didn't have to fake his rage now, knowing he wouldn't be able to come back from this. "Fuller?" He bunched up his towel and chucked it to the side as he turned to finally face Jim. "He's the cockroach of this department, brother, and he's not gonna give us any second chances."

Jim was facing him now, leaning back against the sink. "What're you gonna do? Piss away all the hard work you did to get here?"

"Piss what away, Jimmy? The _cage?_ " He shook his head, even if it wasn't just for a cover, there was no way in _hell_ he'd just crawl to the cage with his tail between his legs. "C'mon, man, we're better than that, and you _know it_." He started to shrug into his jacket and hadn't even realized 'til it was out of his mouth that he'd offered, "Y'gonna come with me?"

They stared each other down, and it finally hit Brian that this was it. His life here was over, and he'd likely never see Jim again. And, looking over at Jim's face, it seemed he also knew that.

"…Real partner wouldn't have to ask that, would he?"

"Real partner would step up to what he did in that bank."

Again, the anger wasn't faked. Brian knew that was his only shot. "I saved the hostage."

"You disobeyed the hold." That was the thing about Jim, he rarely got mad enough to yell. But dammit if Brian wasn't gonna try.

It'd be easier, he thought, if Jim was truly pissed off at him.

"No, I _saved_ that hostage!"

" _You disobeyed the hold!_ "

Damn, this wasn't easier.

"You made the decision yourself, and you _shot a hostage!_ _Jesus_ , Brian!"

The yelling had faded, but Brian knew exactly where to stab his last knife. "Wow. You sound a lot like Fuller. Is that what you two were talking about in there? You rat me out? You cut a deal to get back on the team, Jimmy?"

"…Did I cut a deal?"

Wow, the quiet tone was almost worse than the yelling.

"Yeah, did you?"

"How many times have I covered up for one of your goddamn stunts?"

Hearing Fuller's words from Jim hurt even worse than hearing them the first time. "That's what a partner's _supposed_ to do." He bent over to grab his badge and tossed it at Jim, saying, "You just picked a paycheck over me, bro."

Jim caught it, and pointed a finger back at Brian. "You just picked yourself over everything else."

For once in his life, Gamble's brain-to-mouth filter worked, barely keeping himself from screaming out that it was his brother he'd picked, not himself. Instead, he stooped to pick up his bag, dropping it on the bench to stuff it with his gun and extras from his locker. "You wanna stay here and be Fuller's bitch, you go right ahead. I can't do it." He zipped the bag. "Can't do it," he mumbled, tossing the bag on the ground and going around the side of the lockers. "Dammit, goddammit, _goddammit, Jim!_ " He slammed his hand into the lockers, too keyed up to think straight and getting all his emotions mixed together. He couldn't tell any more if he was mad about Clint or at Jim.

"Partners for five years, and _this_ is how you wanna end it?" Jim mumbled, glancing down at the badge.

And it was true. Between SWAT and the SEALs before it, the two had been each other's partner and confidant for five years, each trusting the other implicitly to watch their back, not to mention almost two decades as best friends on top of that.

And Brian was throwing it all away for the brother he hadn't seen in twelve years.

"Oh, _I_ didn't end it." He shook his head, muttering, "You sold me out to the brass."

"You know, I never realized until now how full of shit you are." Jim tossed the badge back.

Gamble looked down at it, taking a single moment to lock away all his good memories of this place before turning back to Jim, stalking forward. "Fuck you…" he snarled, grabbing his best friend by the collar and shoving backwards, "and SWAT." He pushed, the glass cracking as the back of Jim's head hit it.

He snatched up his bag as he stormed out, barely waiting for the door to close behind him before he pulled out his phone and speed-dialed Natasha. " _Please_ tell me you've got a lead."

 _"Montel's still the best bet,"_ she said, not even commenting on how angry he sounded. _"I would suggest finding a lieutenant and weaseling your way in. You can play a long con, yes?"_

"Yeah. We got a possible location for this guy, or just 'in the area'?"

 _"You're in luck. LA. He has family in town, and word is he wishes to become head of the family."_

Gamble froze for a moment, gaping at nothing. "He's gonna off his own family to gain ground?"

 _"You seem surprised."_

"Family means a lot."

 _"Not to everyone."_

Brian huffed, running a hand through his hair. "Right. Yeah, okay, so I'm gonna try to get in good with this douchebag before Clint does?"

 _"That's the plan."_

"And if he recognizes me?"

 _"You're a former LAPD SWAT, fired for being too hotheaded. I'm sure he'll welcome you gladly."_

He shook his head even though she couldn't see it. "I mean, if Clint's already contacted him." Even after so long apart, they were still identical twins. Montel'd be suspicious about a second copy of Clint turning up.

 _"Clint never meets face to face with his contractors."_

"One day, you two'll have to tell me about your time together." He glanced around, wondering what he could do to set himself up to join the crew. Then, he spotted his first stop and angled towards it. "Tell Coulson I'm gonna have to go the distance to blend in."

 _"I assume he'll understand what that's supposed to mean?"_

"Means he'll be pissed and schedule me a laser removal surgery as soon as the con's done so I can go back to undercover ops." He mumbled a goodbye and hung up as he entered the tattoo and piercing parlor.

 ** _|_!\/!|\|6 |_!|=3 7|-||20|_|6|-| |=34|2_**

A/N: Yeah, so, those familiar with S.W.A.T. can see where this is going, hope you enjoy my take on his makeover after quitting. Read and review?


	3. SWAT 2009

A/N: Still working on tallying the chapter count, looking closer to 25.

 **Warning:** for Brian's mouth. Spoilers for pretty much all of S.W.A.T.

Finally caught up with what's up on AO3, will go to weekly posting now.

 ** _|_!\/!|\|6 |_!|=3 7|-||20|_|6|-| |=34|2_**

Will was still finishing up some reports and glancing occasionally at the surveillance feed he'd hooked up at the farm in Iowa when the Secretary came in. He blinked up at his superior, one hand casually flicking the surveillance tab closed. "Sir?"

"Brandt, we need you to ready a team for a protection detail."

"Of course." Names were already flooding his mind as possibles. "Any particulars?"

"Former IMF and his wife." A file was dropped onto Will's desk, and several names were removed from his mental list. "Neither of them can know you're there."

And that removed several dozen more. "Understood, sir. When do we start?"

"As soon as you can get a team mobilized to Croatia."

Will nodded, and his mental list got a quick review before he pulled up his interagency email to inform those he'd chosen. "We'll be ready by tomorrow afternoon."

"Good. Learn that file, Brandt, you'll be guarding IMF's best."

There was a slight pause as Will frowned, then he gathered the courage to ask, "Sir? If he's the best, why does—?"

"Why does he need a detail?" the Secretary finished. "Simply put, he's out of the game and his wife was never in it. Neither want anything to do with this life, but we know he still has enemies out there."

"Understood." As the Secretary turned and left, Will took a moment to pull up the surveillance once more before dialing Jason. "Hey, I'm gonna be out of reach for… a while."

 _"Okay…"_ the younger mumbled. _"Longer than normal?"_

"Most likely. I'm sending you an encrypted file that links to the farm. Keep an eye on Kenny, yeah?"

 _"…Will, I dunno if I like this."_

"It'll be fine."

 _"You're saying you're going off-grid. Kenny already is, Clint's an international assassin, and Brian's trying to hunt him down. I don't wanna have found two brothers only to lose the other two."_

"You won't, Jas. My op's a simple bodyguard, okay? Easy job."

 _"If you just jinxed yourself, I reserve the right to say 'I told you so.'"_

"Noted." He sent off his emails, then closed down his computer and grabbed his go bag. "Alright, I've gotta go pack up and rally the troops. Talk to you when I can."

 _"Yeah. I'll take over stalker duty while you're gone."_

"Thank you."

 _"Just come back in one piece, yeah?"_

"Always."

 ** _|_!\/!|\|6 |_!|=3 7|-||20|_|6|-| |=34|2_**

One of Natasha's brows rose when she first laid eyes on the new-and-improved Brian Gamble. He huffed, crossing his arms over his chest before wincing and dropping them as the action pulled on the new tattoos that ran across the skin. "Shuddup, it's for my cover," he grumbled.

"And what might your cover be? Someone who doesn't know their own name?"

He scowled. "It was the first thing that came to mind. 'Sides, I'm playing up the disenfranchised ex-cop, right? So it's not like I'm going by another name. Might as well put it out there."

"Of course."

Gamble rolled his eyes. "Whatever. Look, I already found a couple guys willing to hook me up with the right people for this. What's the ETA on Montel arriving?"

"You have a few months."

He sighed. "Great. This is _really_ gonna suck…."

She shrugged. "It's the price to pay to get your brother back."

"Y'know I _hate_ waiting, right?"

"You and Clint both."

"Not a good quality in a sniper," a new voice added, and both spun to see Coulson walking over. As expected, he glanced over Brian and frowned. "Really, Gamble?"

Brian shrugged. "Needed to portray a specific image."

"So you went with piercing your ears and getting your name permanently etched into your skin?"

"That's what laser removal's for."

Coulson's frown deepened just a little, but he let it go. "We have a few months to work on this. Get all the info you can, and be ready to do whatever's necessary to gain Montel's trust." Their superior dropped a file for them. "He has information we're interested in, so we need him alive at the end of this."

"This doubling as a protection detail?" Gamble asked, brow raised.

"If need be."

"Sure thing, boss. Won't let a single assassin touch the guy."

"Not even your brother."

Brian blinked, staring Coulson down. "You really think Clint's gonna—?"

"There's a chance, and it's not a chance I'd like to take."

Natasha and Brian both nodded, grim-faced and knowing it was likely to happen. After all, if Montel was really coming to off a mob leader, there'd be enough upset to possibly put out a contract on the guy.

"If it comes down to it, will you be able to take him down to protect our informant?"

Brian grimaced, but nodded. "Non-lethal, but I'll subdue him."

Coulson studied the younger man, then clapped him on the shoulder. "I'll have your six if it comes to it."

"Thanks."

 ** _|_!\/!|\|6 |_!|=3 7|-||20|_|6|-| |=34|2_**

For six months, life went on for Marta and Aaron. They blended in with the locals, brought goods to trade at the monthly flea market, and just generally laid low. They didn't see either Will or Jason, never heard another word about Brian or Clint, but Aaron kept his eye out, just in case.

So of course, when he found the video of Alex Montel offering a hundred million dollars to whoever could break him out of prison, he knew at least two of his siblings would jump on the chance. Clint, to take the money, and Brian to catch him at it.

When he finally got in touch with the two again, he was surprised to hear it was exactly the opposite.

 ** _|_!\/!|\|6 |_!|=3 7|-||20|_|6|-| |=34|2_**

The bar was Brian's go-to for new info, be it on Montel or just on his ever-expanding crew of do-badders. But when he noticed Jim there, he couldn't help but be drawn over, bantering a bit. Hearing his best friend had gotten back into SWAT was both a relief and another stab in the back. Maybe… maybe Jim really _had_ given him up to Fuller.

So he jabbed him about it, muttering to him about kissing ass and saying hi to their old boss. When Gamble's new "friend" grumbled about him being held back from beating Jim's ass, Brian honestly told him, "I just saved yours." Jim would've torn the guy apart, between the SEALs training and his own psycho exercise regime, he could take out a SWAT squad on his own.

Still didn't stop Brian from smashing their picture on the wall, too pissed to see Jim back in Fuller's good graces to care about sentiment.

So the video was exactly what Brian had been waiting for. He gathered the men he'd been conning and set up a plan to get at Montel.

Of course, things couldn't just go smooth for once.

" _Who_ is leading the SWAT team?!" Brian demanded of Coulson.

"Dan Harrelson, goes by Hondo," the man replied. "Fury's cousin."

" _Shit!_ How the hell—? Does he _know?_ Is this all a set up?!"

"Pure coincidence."

"Bullshit."

"Hey." Coulson grabbed him by the shoulder, forcing him to lock eyes. "It's just a speed bump. Work around it."

"…Yessir."

 ** _|_!\/!|\|6 |_!|=3 7|-||20|_|6|-| |=34|2_**

Will rubbed at his eyes, staring down at his transfer forms before sighing and picking up his phone. "Jas, I fucked up."

 _"Hello, Will, nice to speak to you, too. Oh, I'm doing fine, thanks for asking, and you?"_ Jason grumbled back.

"You can say it now."

 _"Say what?"_

"I told you so."

 _"…Shit, what happened?"_

Will sighed. "We lost the wife. She was captured, and they—well, the husband took out the team that did it."

 _"Damn. I'm sorry, Will. Really."_

"Yeah, well, I'm not."

 _"What?"_

"Showed me I've gotta get outta the field before I screw up worse."

 _"Will…."_

"No, Jas, I'm—I need out. Not entirely, I know too much at this point, and my whole career's here, but… I'm moving to a desk."

 _"Analyst full-time?"_

"Yeah. Safer, y'know? Plus, I can keep track of the rest of you idiots that way."

 _"Gee, thanks."_

"…We're gonna find 'em, Jason. That Montel case will draw Clint, which'll draw Brian, and you _know_ it. And once we get them back, we can go get Kenny, too."

 ** _|_!\/!|\|6 |_!|=3 7|-||20|_|6|-| |=34|2_**

Taking out the chopper was too damn easy for someone who knew how SWAT ran. Gamble practically skipped out of the building once he'd made the two shots. Letting a bunch of idiots who knew nothing about Hondo's team make a distraction helped, too, but the intel from McCabe was the icing on the cake. He knew the guy was all about loyalty but only until money got in the way. Of _course_ he'd side with Gamble over Street, Brian didn't sell out his partner.

And watching the panic as attacks came from all over was honestly kinda fun.

Until he spotted Clint in a perch two blocks from the action, with his sights trained on where Montel was supposed to be.

"Nat, Coulson, I got him, but I needa keep up my ruse."

 _"Where?"_ Coulson barked.

Gamble rattled off the address, and Coulson confirmed he could get there. "…Do your best to keep him alive, yeah?"

 _"…My best might not be enough, Gamble. Prepare yourself for that."_

Brian huffed but got ready for the SUV to pull up for him. Luckily McCabe was driving, or that could've been complicated. McCabe jumped out and aimed on Street, and Brian knew he needed a further distraction, so he shot Boxer, aiming for a spot that he knew would bleed and hurt like hell but was recoverable.

Any regret he may've felt was overridden when he spotted a pair of shadows jumping from roof to roof a few blocks down. He needed to get Montel out of range _now_ , or Clint might actually get at him.

Of course, McCabe couldn't shut up about the shot, but screw him. Brian kept his gun on Jim, making sure he wouldn't do anything stupid and throwing in some mockery before slamming his gun into the back of Jim's neck when he yelled into McCabe's radio.

"Do me a favor?" Brian teased as McCabe cuffed Jim to the wheel, hoping it would distract Jim further and get him pissed enough to screw up. "Tell Fuller I pulled this off?"

Then he turned and led Montel and McCabe down to the subway, vaguely hearing Coulson yelling at his brother in his earpiece. Tuning them out was one of the toughest things he'd ever done.

His group of three ducked into the subway car he'd procured, and he gave the order to leave, the car pulling away just as Hondo and Jim made it to the platform. As much as he hated to do it, he kept his rifle aimed at Jim until he knew the other wouldn't fire.

Then, because he knew it was probably his only chance and it would never fly to do it to Fury himself, he flipped them off.

 _"You don't have to do this, Clint!"_

A bowstring twanged in response, and Brian could hear Phil curse under his breath as he dodged.

Brian winced, wishing he could be there to talk Clint down, but he knew his part of the mission and damn if he wouldn't complete his objective.

Once they'd hopped off their train, Brian ordered the rest to keep ahead of him, making sure to set traps along the way that he knew Jim would be ready for but would stall them. A smoke bomb, a claymore, all things Jim and he had encountered during their time in the SEALs.

Of course, McCabe had to bitch about the grenade, which led to bitching about Boxer, but a quick reminder of the money got him back in line.

All the while, he could hear Coulson and Clint fighting and no bomb going off.

Luckily, they were almost out, and they could lock up the access door. With the lights going on at a closed airport as a further distraction, Brian checked in on their actual plane and drove off.

As much as he hated what he had to do here, watching that jet land on the bridge was fucking _awesome_. The adrenaline junkie in Brian couldn't help but grin, even as the nose of the plane just barely missed him. They got the plane turned, and Brian pulled the man out before having the others load in, hopping in last and ordering take off.

When the limo the SWAT squad'd commandeered just drove through their defenses, Brian set off his last distraction, pressing the button just before they were close enough to get blown with the two vans. As the car swerved through the fire, Brian handed a phone and account number to Montel, knowing the best bet was to act as cocky as possible, even as he leaned out the hatch to fire back at the limo chasing them down.

And damn if Fury's cousin couldn't fucking drive.

The jet spun out of control, and Montel was the first out of the jet. Brian grabbed the hostage they'd taken and some rope, using her as a shield since he knew Jim wouldn't risk hurting her.

Sure enough, Street was just behind him. "Gamble, let her go!"

"Take the shot, Jimbo!" he spat back.

He rappelled down the bridge, landing among the train tracks and taking a split moment to sigh into his earpiece and rub at the collar mic Phil had given him to use as a decoy later. "This better fucking work, Coulson."

 _"It will."_

"Bring him in for me." Brian levered himself up onto an empty cart, waiting for Jim to grab for his loose gun, which he'd dropped in his own fall onto the train, and slamming his knife into his friend's hand when he did. He aimed precisely for between the bones, where it would hurt like hell, but the muscles would heal. "You're like a goddamn rash," he snarled. He tossed the gun further away, then hopped down, teasing, "Y'might wanna get that looked at, brother," before running off, dodging between cars and knowing Jim would easily track him down. Sure enough, the man slammed a pole into him a couple times before they each got a hold of the other and wrestled over Brian's gun. Brian grunted, feeling the tracks just under his head and praying Coulson's little trick would work as he fired off a shot that went wide and Jim released the rest of his clip. They finally broke free and rolled away from each other, Jim coming out with the gun and aiming it at him.

Brian chuckled and held up the clip.

"There's one in the chamber, partner."

For a split second, Brian froze, thinking Jim was actually gonna shoot (and thereby ruin Brian and Coulson's brilliant plan for him to play dead by actually, y'know, _dying_ ) before Jim ejected the bullet and tossed the gun. They lunged at each other again, and grappled for a few minutes as another train came by. When Jim threw his knee into Brian's stomach, he knew it was just about over, and he dropped, simultaneously jabbing the fast-acting sedative into his side as he knocked the button on the back of his choker into the track, setting off Coulson's device which made an effective smashing noise and splattered blood across Brian's face. He went limp, knowing if Jim tried to find a pulse, he wouldn't.

Luckily, Jim just wandered off, probably to send a body bag down for him.

Brian lay there, alive but breathing so slowly no one would be able to tell without proper equipment, for another two minutes before Natasha stalked over.

"Seems you _can_ act, after all," she mumbled, ducking down to administer the antidote.

With a gasping lurch, Brian jackknifed up, coughing and sputtering up his lunch before he could control his breath again. "Dammit, Coulson, that stuff _sucks!_ "

"Worked, though," Natasha offered.

Both their comms were silent.

The two shared a quick, worried look before a gunshot sounded through the devices, and they both took off.

 ** _|_!\/!|\|6 |_!|=3 7|-||20|_|6|-| |=34|2_**

A/N: Shorter, I know, but I did it for the cliffy. Read and review, please.


	4. 2009-2010

A/N: Life's a little ridiculous, sorry if this slows a bit, I'll try to keep to the once-a-week schedule. Having some delays with the sequel, so… there's that, too. And there may be some one-shots attached, little scenes that don't quite fit into the storyline easily.

Fans of the Fraction-verse Hawkeye comics will recognize the style I use for dialogue in the first section. It's cleared up later, but you can jump to the end notes if you want to know why it looks weird.

This is one of the longer chapters in this story, I think maybe two or three others either match or exceed this baby.

 **Warning:** Brian needs to just not talk, I swear. Such a filthy mouth that one has. Also, vague allusions to food issues/hoarding and poor self-preservation techniques (Clint's in bad shape here).

 ** _|_!\/!|\|6 |_!|=3 7|-||20|_|6|-| |=34|2_**

Clint had, of course, done his research before taking on his newest job. Alex Montel was a psychopath, caring only about his own fame and furthering his credit in the underground circles. The man had killed his father before hopping a plane to LA to kill his uncle. Luckily, one of the uncle's lieutenants took offense and had plenty of money to offer for a job well done. Not as much as the offer for helping the bastard, but, well, it was an easier job and wouldn't leave Clint feeling like an even bigger scumbag afterwards.

And now, Clint had the man himself in his sights, bow drawn and arrow nocked, as he was driven through the city in a black SUV motorcade. When his mark's vehicle pulled to the side at a crosswalk, Clint smirked, knowing he'd just gotten his shot.

He felt eyes on him. His gaze drifted for a moment to check, and sure enough, there was a man in a suit standing on the next building over, aiming a handgun at him.

Clint's eyes flicked back to the car, but his shot was gone, so he turned and ran, rolling to his feet on the next rooftop and feeling the thud below him when the suit had followed. He kept moving, turning and firing off a shot when he had the chance, noticing as he did that the man was trying to talk to him. He snorted and nocked another arrow, jumping and turning midair to fire it at the man. Then, he flipped and rolled across the next roof.

The man dodged again and was yelling at him still. _"You don't [half?] do this, Clint!"_

Okay, dude knew his name, that didn't bode well. He sent another arrow at the guy, but once more, it was dodged.

They continued this way, jumping and dodging and rolling across the roofs until Clint ran out of buildings at the right height. He glared across the street, then to his side, where one building leveled out about four stories above his own roof, fire escape on the side facing the street and too narrow a target for him to safely jump for.

He turned when he felt the man land and knocked another arrow.

 _"[Buying?] wants to help you, Clint. We [judge? just] want to [ring?] you in."_

Clint's lips curled into a snarl. "No. Fuckin'. Way," he growled, speaking slowly to avoid slurring his words as he knew sometimes happened.

 _"Romanov said—"_

"Wha'd you do t' Tasha?!" Clint demanded, stalking forward a step or two and adjusting his aim to the man's stomach rather than his eye in anticipation of having to interrogate him.

The man frowned slightly, then his hands moved in a flurry. _Are you deaf?_

"Ans'r me!"

 _She was brought in to—_ the man scowled a bit, but spelt out the next word, _S-H-I-E-L-D as an asset._

"Where's she!?"

 _Safe._ The man glanced briefly at his watch, then added, _Reviving your brother, if all went to plan._

"She wouldn' go _near_ Barn'y."

 _Not B-A-R-N-E-Y,_ the man spelt, _B-R-I-A-N._

For a moment, Clint's breath was stolen from him. He hadn't spoken with any of his siblings since he was seven and the Bartons—well, Harold, at least—decided he couldn't use the phone any more. There was no way Brian would just show up out of the blue like this. He'd long since assumed his brothers thought him dead.

"You're lyin'."

 _Not lying. He's the one who brought in R-O-M-A-N-O-V. She told him about you._

Clint scowled and loosed his arrow. The man had moved as soon as Clint released, and the arrow barely missed him.

The man's bullet, however, dug deep into Clint's thigh.

" _Shit!_ " Clint went down to one knee, pulling an arrow and refusing to drop the bow, nocking with slightly shaky hands as he fought back the pain.

The man had his gun aimed once more, steadily creeping closer with an eye on the arrow at all times. Someone must've yelled at him, though, because, without turning, he yelled back, _"Over here!"_

Clint's eyes were drooping, blood loss compounding on top of months of near-starvation and almost a week of no sleep due to a recent lack of jobs. He just barely kept himself awake long enough to see Natasha land on the roof. She glanced at him, and he knew his own face showed his betrayal. "Tasha…?"

The world went dark.

 ** _|_!\/!|\|6 |_!|=3 7|-||20|_|6|-| |=34|2_**

"Dammit, Coulson, I thought you were trying _not_ to shoot my brother!?" Brian demanded of his CO upon arriving at the roof. Natasha had immediately crossed to Clint, leaving the bow in his hands but removing his quiver and arrows before stroking some hair out of his face.

"I subdued him. He wasn't going to come in without seeing one of you for himself."

"Didn't you _tell_ him that—?"

"Yes, and he didn't seem to believe me."

" _Dammit!_ "

Natasha glanced over at them. "If your bickering is done, he needs medical."

"Shit," Brian hissed before sliding down next to his twin and checking over the wound. "We've gotta pack it with something, keep him from bleeding out." He absentmindedly ran a hand over his brother, checking for any other injuries and frowning at how easily he could feel ribs. "…When'd he last eat…?"

Natasha frowned. "Likely several days to a week ago."

Brian spun to her, eyes wide. "No shit?!"

"No work, no meal. Something the circus taught him."

"Dammit…." Brian looked over to Coulson, who was hanging up his cellphone. "How long to evac?"

"Five minutes. Luckily, some big to-do on the bridge is distracting enough to let a quinjet land here."

Sure enough, a small quinjet landed within moments, just long enough for Brian to have stripped off his shirt and wadded it against Clint's wound, making sure to keep the fake blood from Coulson's device on the inside to avoid cross-contamination. A med team quickly took over, nudging Brian to the side to check on the injury themselves before loading Clint onto a stretcher and into the jet, Natasha, Brian, and Coulson trailing close behind.

Once in the air, Brian latched on to his little brother's hand, leaning in close and murmuring reassurances to him, all the while hoping and praying that they'd make it through this.

 ** _|_!\/!|\|6 |_!|=3 7|-||20|_|6|-| |=34|2_**

Jason was checking in on Will's link to the farm when Kowalski stopped by his desk. He glanced up briefly, blindly minimizing the window and mumbling, "We catch a case?"

Kowalski shrugged. "Nah, man, I'm heading out. Needa get _some_ sleep, y'know?"

Walsh's eyes flicked down to the clock on his computer, and he winced. "Ah, yeah, probably a good idea…."

"You look like shit," the other man commented, brow furrowed. "Wanna stop at the Apolo for drinks?"

Jason shook his head, huffing a sigh and shoving away from the desk. "No. I've been running on about two hours all week. I could use the rest."

"Alright." Kowalski slapped him on the shoulder with a heavy hand. "Don't run yourself into the ground, yeah?"

"Yeah."

It seemed the elder man was about to leave, but instead he turned back for a moment, asking, "Oh, hey, whatever happened with that family thing? Something about a cousin on the run?"

Jason blinked before remembering his cover. "Oh, yeah, he's still—well, my aunt's taking care of it."

"Right. Y'know I'm here if ya needa talk."

For once, his partner was being genuinely nice. Walsh gave a small grin back. "Yeah, man, thanks."

"Any time."

 ** _|_!\/!|\|6 |_!|=3 7|-||20|_|6|-| |=34|2_**

Clint had been in surgery for four hours. Apparently, he was near-anemic on top of starving and dehydrated. Brian raved for a while in the waiting room when he heard.

Coulson barely glanced up from his forms and Natasha just rolled her eyes and dragged Brian down into the seat next to her. He grumbled, crossing his arms and slouching.

"Call your brothers."

Brian blinked over at his CO. "What?"

Coulson gave him a blank stare. "Your brothers. Call them. They should know."

"…Oh. _Oh_ , oh, right." Brian pulled out his phone and dialed before Coulson cleared his throat and pointed to the 'No cell phones allowed' sign by the door. Brian huffed but went outside.

 _"'Lo?"_ Jason's voice was scratchy, and a quick glance at his watch told Brian it was nearly 3 AM out in New York.

He winced. "Ah, s—sorry to wake you…."

 _"Nah, 's fine."_ There was some rustling, like he was sitting up in bed. _"What's up? Didja find Clint?"_

"Yeah. He's—He's in surgery right now, bullet wound to the thigh."

 _"Damn. I take it he didn't get Montel outta the country, then?"_

Brian blinked. "Uh, no, he—how'd you know about Montel?"

 _"Will."_

"'Course." He sighed. "Ah, no. He, um, he wasn't trying to help Montel. He kinda, he took a contract on him."

 _"Wait, what?"_

"He was trying to assassinate him. Less money, better odds."

 _"But then, how'd Montel get so close to escaping?"_

"Uh, that'd be my fault."

 _"_ ** _What?!_** _"_

"Yeah, Coulson's idea. Well, Nat's, but Coulson's the one who realized Clint would rather take a hit on the guy than escort him outta the country…."

 _"Will's gonna wanna have a chat with you about that once I tell him."_

"Dammit…."

There was movement across the line, and a quiet huff of, _"Damn, outta fruit…."_

"…Are you seriously opening your diner right now?"

 _"I'm up, not on the clock for work, and cooking is a stress reliever."_

Brian shook his head. "Anyway, just wanted to let you and Will know we've got him, okay? I'll check in again when he's outta surgery."

 _"Thanks. I'll call Will. Oh, and I'll have to fill you in when you call back about what Will and I found out recently."_

"What?"

 _"Turns out, Kenny's alive."_

" _What?!_ "

 _"Yeah, he's hiding out at some farm in Iowa."_

"Damn."

 _"Yep. Oh, got a customer, call me later."_

"Sure thing." They both hung up, and Brian sighed, running a hand through his hair before turning to head back inside. Once there, he looked over at Coulson and mumbled, "Did you know about Kenny?"

"Jason finally told you, then?"

"Dammit, Coulson, you suck."

"Didn't want you distracted while you were undercover."

"Well, c'mon, man, I want the details."

 ** _|_!\/!|\|6 |_!|=3 7|-||20|_|6|-| |=34|2_**

Being just an analyst was mind-numbing. It had only been a week, and already Will wanted to shoot himself. Or maybe his computer. He spent everyday, 9 to 9, running scenarios and attempting to guess how people he didn't know and couldn't interact with would react to each and every possible situation on each and every possible op.

He had never been more annoyed in his _life_ , and he had four _incredibly_ frustrating siblings.

" _Brandt!_ " a voice barked from the cubicle next to him, making him jump. When he spun to face his fellow analyst, she simply demanded, "Answer your damn phone."

Sure enough, his phone was buzzing across the desk. Will grabbed it, unlocking it and huffing out, "Brandt."

 _"Brian's an idiot."_

His brow furrowed. "…That's not exactly news."

 _"He's the one who ran a prison break for Montel, not Clint."_

"…Okay, yeah, that's a new level of stupid for him. Did he really—?"

 _"No, SWAT shut him down, but he wasn't_ ** _really_** _trying, y'know? More just keeping Montel alive until SHIELD brought in the assassin gunning for him."_

"Who the hell would—?" Will blinked. "Damn. Clint was—?"

 _"Yep. He was in surgery last I heard, bullet wound to the thigh, Brian was s'posed to call once he was out, but I've kinda… I've been busy today."_

"Jas? What happened?"

 _"Cop got shot this morning, newbie in our precinct."_

Will hissed. "Damn. I'm sorry, Jas."

 _"Yeah, well, knew it'd happen to one of us eventually."_ A sigh crackled over the line. _"Kowalski's being his usual self about it."_

 _"The hell's that s'posed to mean, Walsh?"_ a drunken slur came from across the line.

Will rolled his eyes, having heard from Jason about just how much of a douche his partner could be. "Drowning his sorrows, is he?"

 _"Yep. Anyway, I'll let you know about Barton."_

So Jason didn't want his partner knowing he was talking about (or to, most likely) family. Will could play along. "Thanks. Good luck with the cop case, too."

 _"Yeah…."_ There was a pause where neither seemed to want to hang up, then some shuffling on Jason's end. _"…I told Brian about Kenny."_

He must've moved into a different room than his partner. "How'd he take it?"

 _"Better than I thought he would. I guess between knowing how SHIELD runs and having Clint to worry about…."_

"Right. I'll be getting a call later so he can bitch at me, won't I?"

 _"Most likely."_

Will sighed. "We're so close, Jas. A few more weeks for Clint to recover, and we can all—"

 _"I doubt Kenny wants to be caught on the radar. And he doesn't seem like he'd appreciate us making another house call."_

"The CIA dropped their manhunt, though. As far as they're concerned, he's dead."

 _"You really think that'll hold if he surfaces?"_

"I—I just want us all to—"

 _"I know, Will. But we've gotta be realistic, too. He's got his own skills; if he reaches out, I'm more than happy to head to him."_

"Yeah." The call waiting went off on his phone, and Will blinked as he pulled it away from his ear to stare down at the unknown number. "Ah, I'm gonna call you back, Jas."

He could practically _hear_ his little brother's frown. _"What's going on?"_

"Someone's trying to reach me."

 _"ID?"_

"None."

 _"You call me as_ ** _soon_** _as you hang up."_

"Yeah." He hung up and switched lines. "Brandt."

The line was quiet.

"…Hello?"

 _"…Will?"_

His eyes went wide. "K—Kenny?"

 _"It's Aaron, actually. Or, at least, that's what I've been going by."_

He huffed a sigh. "Yeah, yeah, Coulson told us that."

 _"…Coulson?"_

"He, uh, he's sorta Brian's boss, I guess? Works for SHIELD."

There was another long pause, then, _"That sounds like some kinda black ops."_

"I wouldn't say black ops…. Well, maybe…."

 _"And he knows about me? Where I am?"_

Will bit his lip. "Ah, yeah? He's a good guy, though."

 _"…Don't really trust agencies."_

"…Might be difficult in our family. We're kinda all in various government jobs."

 _"…Shit."_

"Hey, I'm pretty sure I read you were CIA."

 _"…That doesn't count."_

"I think it does. But, yeah, Brian's ex-LAPD SWAT with SHIELD, Jason's NYPD, and I'm with—ah, a subdivision of the CIA." Close call, moron, IMF's supposed to be nonexistent.

 _"…You're in IMF, aren't you?"_

"How—? Right, you were CIA…."

 _"They wanted to tap me for IMF but my handler refused to transfer me. Then, y'know, decided to off me when the program went under."_

Will blinked at that, connecting the dots. "Byer was your—?"

Aaron spoke over him, obviously not wanting to hear the accusation. _"You left out Clint. He still with the circus?"_

"Uh, no. He, uh, he left Carson's shortly after you 'died'."

 _"And? What agency's he with?"_

"Well, he just got brought in by SHIELD."

 _"…Brought in?"_

Will gave a quick glance around, making sure all his fellow analysts were too busy to eavesdrop. "He—He was freelancing, wetworks."

 _"He was an assassin for hire."_

"Yeah. Brian and Coulson have him now, though. Given how things went with the Black Widow, sounds like they plan to recruit him."

 _"The Black—? You're kidding, right?"_

"Ah, no, no, they actually brought in, well, two international assassins now, I guess. Apparently she used to work occasionally with Clint."

 _"Damn. …So, I guess a family reunion's still a ways off?"_

"Totally should've put money down with Jason," Will grumbled. "Could've made a killing."

 _"Will?"_

"Sorry, ah, yeah, still gonna need some time on that. Clint's in medical right now, apparently he took a bullet to the thigh when he was brought in."

Ken—Aaron sucked in a breath. _"Damn. Those suck."_

"…Apparently our reunion's gonna be less 'how you doing' more 'let's compare scars'."

 _"Pretty sure I'll win."_

"Never underestimate our baby brothers. I hear Brian had to play at helping a max-sec con with a prison break while fighting off his old SWAT partner."

 _"Yeah? He still hung up on, whatshisname, Street?"_

"That'd be the old partner. Don't have all the details on that one, but given how he split from SWAT? Doubt they'll be able to repair their bridges, given they're all ash now."

 _"Damn. Yeah, that'll be tough."_ There was some noise in the background, then Aaron huffed. _"I gotta go, okay? And, uh, y'won't be able to reach me on this line again, gotta chuck this phone, y'know?"_

Right, he was still paranoid about agencies. "Yeah, no problem. Call me when you can, but, uh, maybe on my cell instead of at work?"

 _"…Shit. This was the only number I could find for you."_

"That'd be because my cell's need-to-know." He rattled off the number, knowing Aaron would be able to memorize it thanks to the program he'd been part of. That was yet another thing they'd have to talk about when they got together.

 _"Alright, I'll talk to you another time. Get an update on Clint, yeah?"_

"Yeah. And I'll yell at Brian for both of us about his stupid break-out-a-con plan."

Aaron actually _chuckled_ at that. _"Definitely. Save some for Clint, too. Hitman's not a solid career choice."_

 ** _|_!\/!|\|6 |_!|=3 7|-||20|_|6|-| |=34|2_**

Clint woke as he always had, jolting straight from sleep to wakefulness but keeping his eyes sealed and his breathing even. It was a precautionary tactic he'd learned from the years of abuse growing up, first from his drunk adoptive father who would look for any excuse to beat any of them to his mentors in the circus who considered wake time to be training time, regardless of how overworked, sore, or hungry he was. After all, no work, no food.

The next part of his tactic was the hardest, stretching his senses to decide whether he was safe to open his eyes or not. The main issue with this was that the one sense he couldn't use, his sight, was by far his strongest, and his weakest sense, his hearing, was about the only thing he could use. He could only hear certain frequencies through his right ear and none at all through his left, but he'd taught himself how to feel out a room, the hairs on the back of his neck twitching up when there was someone else nearby, his heart minutely speeding up if there was a threat.

At this particular point, his hair was on end, but his heart was steady. No threat, but definitely people nearby. He steeled himself for whatever was about to happen, then slowly blinked his eyes open.

The white of the walls and the antiseptic stench in the air told him he was in a hospital, but there were no doctors hovering, waiting to swarm him upon waking.

Instead, there was a redhead watching him cautiously, the very corner of her lips twitching up when she saw his eyes roam over her. "Dobroye utro, malen'kiy yastreb."

She knew how to pitch her voice so he could vaguely hear, but she also made sure her lips were visible. It was a habit they'd fallen into over their years working together, speaking aloud so no one could tell Clint was deaf and teaching him slowly how to properly pronounce the words he couldn't hear himself say.

"Utro, vdova," he mumbled back. "Where'm I?" Fluent though he was in Russian, whatever drugs he was currently on made it too hard to focus on his pronunciation.

"SHIELD medical," she replied slowly. She knew his eyes sometimes wavered when he had painkillers. "They treated your bullet wound, and they have you on an IV for your malnutrition." Her lips pursed. "I thought you'd gotten past your poor prioritizing."

He shrugged, flinching just slightly when it pulled his IV. He stared down at it where it was taped to his elbow, then he looked further down to where his wrist was shackled to the bed. His eyes flashed back up to Natasha in betrayal.

"It's only temporary. They want to recruit you, like they did me."

"No."

"Yastreb, it's a good gig. No more hunting for work, no more ducking into abandoned buildings for shelter, no more starving yourself."

He scowled at her. "No."

 _It's not really negotiable_.

Clint's scowl flicked up to the man who had stepped in front of him to ensure Clint saw the man's signing. It was the man who had shot him. "Fuck no."

 _Either join S-H-I-E-L-D or go to jail._

"I'll take curtain number two."

Natasha nudged him, and he turned towards her only to freeze in shock when he saw the new arrival in the doorway.

" _Clint_ ," the newcomer breathed, taking a step closer. " _God, I missed you_."

Words couldn't make it past the lump in his throat.

The other man, the balding one who'd shot him, must've said or signed something, since the newcomer glanced his way before looking back to Clint and imploring, " _Please, you have to join SHIELD, we—we just got you back._ "

Clint's nose wrinkled, and somehow he managed to force out, "Don't trust agencies."

" _Then trust Nat. Trust—Trust me._ "

"Yastreb." Once more, the pitch of her voice was the only reason Clint was able to hear Natasha. He turned to her, head tilting slightly in both confusion and an attempt to hear better. "SHIELD is a good gig. The people are decent. There is unlimited access to the cafeteria. You can pick and choose your ops. You will have a handler to help you, an extraction plan, resources. _You can trust them._ "

Clint twitched. All those reasons sounded good, sure, but what guarantee did he actually have that it would work that way? He'd learned all too well over his life that the only person he could trust was himself. Hell, even _Natasha_ left him.

He must've missed something, because suddenly, arms were pulling at him. He lashed out, kicking the offender and flipping himself off the bed on the same side as the handcuffs, just barely avoiding breaking his wrist and ripping his IV out. He glared over the railing at his brother, who was glancing between Clint and the balding man who'd shot him and yelling.

He was pitched too high, probably frantic, for Clint to hear him, and he kept missing a few words. " _What the [fell?], Coulson?! As if it [were?(n't)] bad enough you [pot] him, now he can't [her]?!_ "

The other man, Coulson, apparently, must have replied, because Brian's face fell, eyes widened, and he sunk into a chair, digging his hands into his hair. " _Shit. Shit, you're—you're serious? He's—He's [dead? deaf]?_ "

Clint twitched again, and Natasha simultaneously squeezed his hand and glared the other men into silence. Yet again, she pitched her voice in deference to Clint. "If you two idiots are done, I could actually explain the situation to you."

They must've agreed, because she launched quickly and efficiently into the tale of how he lost the majority of his hearing. Brian was looking more and more like he wanted to put his fist through something (probably Harold Barton's face, though he was dead already), and Coulson was—well, bland as ever.

"Shit."

Clint blinked, gaze flicking over to his brother, who had apparently figured out how to properly pitch his voice.

Brian locked eyes with him, looking sympathetic but not pitying, unlike most who found out about Clint's disability. "I'm _so_ sorry, Clint. We—We tried to find you, for years, and when—when I first saw you at the carnival, I—I tried yelling for you, and I—I thought you were mad," he mumbled, eyes flicking to the ground.

"…You… saw me? At the carnival?"

The elder twin smirked. "Hell yeah. You were fuckin' awesome, man! And from what I hear, you've only gotten better since then."

"No shit, sherlock."

Brian jolted, digging in his pocket and pulling out his cell phone. "Shit, sorry, sorry," he mumbled, glancing at the caller ID. "Ah, it's Will, I'll be right back." He ducked out of the room.

Clint frowned, watching his brother leave before glancing over at Natasha. "Why—?"

"No phones in the rooms," she replied. "He's been fielding calls from Will and Jason since he first told them you were here."

He bit his lip, nervous. "I—I can't—They're—I'm not—"

"They aren't coming."

Clint's eyes flicked over to the balding man, who had also figured out the pitch thing.

"They don't want to overwhelm you, plus they're both a little preoccupied with their work."

The youngest's brow furrowed. "Their work?"

"Jason's NYPD, and Will's IMF."

Clint blinked. "Will? In IMF? The guy who yelled a'me f'r climbin' the bush they called a tree outside th'orphanage 'cause I'd get hurt if I fell five feet? _He's_ workin' with IMF?"

Natasha punched him in the arm, gently for her, and he winced, shooting her a scowl. She scowled right back. "Enunciate. You're slurring."

He grimaced. "Sorry."

"Yes, Will is in IMF," the balding man replied. "He's their chief analyst."

"Always did think too much…."

There must've been some kind of disturbance outside then, since both Natasha and the man glanced towards the door. They shared a look, then the man went out of the room.

With only Natasha there, Clint flipped himself back into the bed, again taking care not to twist his wrist from the handcuffs. _What's going on?_ he signed to her, using a one-hand version the two had developed during their years working together.

 _Your brother is getting rowdy,_ she signed back, and it was a testament to how panicked he must look that she didn't speak instead. Natasha didn't like to bother with sign unless it was necessary. _Apparently, Will is bitching him out for his part in Montel's near-escape._

"His _what?!_ "

She smirked. "We figured you'd try to go after Montel, so, as part of a security detail for him, Brian went undercover as a thug planning on banking the hundred million reward for breaking him out of the country. It was all very well-planned to seem like he'd come up with a brilliant strategy while also luring you out of hiding and insuring that the SWAT team sent after him would succeed in getting Montel back in custody."

"And doing so burned any bridge I might've had to get back on Jim's good side," Brian huffed as he came back in, still glaring down at his phone.

"What did Will want?"

"To yell about trains and not letting myself get run over." He turned to Clint, adding, "Don't turn on the news, they lie."

"He also mentioned that Jason's got a case and will be busy for a while."

Clint glanced over at Coulson as he wandered in, still looking bland. "And Kenny?" The others looked at him, and he frowned. "What? You've told me what everyone else is up to, what about Kenny? Wasn't he going into the army?"

"Ah, Kenny… well, he sorta goes by Aaron now…." Brian gave a brief explanation of the fiasco that was Aaron leaving the CIA. "He lives in Iowa with some chick he took off with."

"Dr. Marta Shearing," Phil specified. "They've moved into a farm under the names Aaron and Laura Barton."

Clint blinked, eyes stinging. "They—They're using my name?" He could've sworn his brothers would've forgotten or written him off after more than fifteen years of silence.

"And according to Will, they've extended an invite for a family reunion in the near future."

"I'm—They're—I—"

Brian rested a hand on Clint's arm, drawing his attention and saying slowly to make sure he caught each word, even with his voice pitched right, "Family's gonna be back together, Clint, we were just waiting on you."

 ** _|_!\/!|\|6 |_!|=3 7|-||20|_|6|-| |=34|2_**

Three months. It took three months for Jason to finally get back in touch with his brothers, and even then, Will was MIA and Clint wasn't comfortable enough with his new hearing aides to talk for himself. Still, Aaron, Jason, and Brian shared as much as they could, Clint mumbling or signing things that Brian would then repeat for the others.

Then the Kremlin was bombed. Will was even more off-the-grid, to the point where even Phil hadn't known where he was or if he was okay, Aaron was even more of a nervous wreck about government agencies, and Jason… actually, given how insane his precinct was, life hadn't changed all that much for him. Meanwhile, the twins were adjusting to working and living together for the first time since they were four.

It did not start out well. For the most part, SHIELD agents didn't even realize there were two of them, which the twins took full advantage of, sneaking around and jumping out at people when they were supposedly "on a mission". Brian, with only being part-time before and after his undercover op with Montel, continued with undercover work, so other than Phil and Fury (and one or two other head honchos in SHIELD), no one knew he existed. As such, Agent Barton was the one with all the legends and rumors of how insane he was, how he lived for terrifying the new recruits.

No one seemed to realize he, himself, was a new recruit, and frankly, the brothers and Natasha preferred it that way. In fact, Natasha even told everyone that Barton was the one who brought her in, and the team of Coulson, Romanov, and Barton became known as Strike Team Delta, SHIELD's most efficient and successful trio.

The twins always got a laugh at that, knowing the trio was actually a quartet.

Will finally came back on the radar after another month, immediately calling his brothers and bluntly telling them, "She's alive. I fucking thought she died on my watch, and Ethan fucking Hunt was just pulling the strings the whole time."

The brothers all blinked, gaping at their screens (they'd actually managed to convince Aaron to join a Skype call). Jason was the first to break their silence. "Um, he—so, his wife's alive?"

Will chuckled brokenly. "She's been alive this whole time. He's such a dick!"

"Ethan Hunt?" Aaron mumbled. "IMF's Golden Boy, yeah? Not surprising, he pulls crazy shit like this all the time."

"Thanks for the warning," Will grumbled back.

Clint, still not quite used to his aides and having followed the conversation by lip reading, signed, _Does this mean you're finally dropping the desk job?_

Brian echoed him aloud, knowing his brothers were still learning sign and had likely missed at least a few of Clint's movements.

"Ah, maybe? I'm partially going back to field work." Will wasn't meeting any of their eyes.

Jason was the first to huff and roll his eyes. "You're working with Hunt."

" _What?!_ " the other three yelped.

"Uh, yeah? It's just—he's—as crazy as he is, the field work was fun, and he… kinda thinks like I used to? And the team seems to like me."

The brothers all gaped once more before Brian chuckled. "And _you_ like _him_."

 _Will's got a crush!_ Clint signed gleefully.

Will huffed, recognizing the name sign Clint had given him—apparently, it was the sign for "meticulous" but with W's in the first part—and he could guess the rest. "I do not!"

 _Yes, you do!_

"Oh, you _totally_ have a crush," Brian snorted.

When Will glanced at the others for backup, Aaron shrugged and Jason just snickered, "Methinks you doth protest too much."

"You're all dicks."

"Barton," a voice called from the distance on Brian and Clint's screen. The two youngest shared a look, Clint quickly signing, _Which of us do you think he's looking for?_

"No clue," Brian mumbled back.

"Job calling?" Aaron asked, looking a bit nervous, as he always did when he was reminded that they all worked for the government.

 _"Grab your gear, we've got an 0-8-4 to sit on."_

"That'd be you," Brian said with a smirk as Clint groaned.

 _I hate babysitting duty…._ But the twin turned on his heel and stalked out, swiping his bow case from the wall on the way out.

"Any idea how long he'll be out of reach?" Jason questioned.

Brian shrugged. "Dunno. Varies. Coulson refuses to even tell me where they're going half the time."

"0-8-4's alien tech, right?" Will mumbled. He was typing at his computer. "He's probably heading to New Mexico, there's a weird 'meteorite' landing near Puente Antiguo."

"…How the hell d'you even—Y'know what, never mind."

 ** _|_!\/!|\|6 |_!|=3 7|-||20|_|6|-| |=34|2_**

A/N: Yes, Will hacks his brothers' employers for funsies. Here's the legend for anytime it's Clint's POV:

 _Italics without quotes - signing_

 _"Italics with quotes" - lipreading_

 _[brackets inside quotes] - words Clint's guessing at (sometimes he's better at it than others)_

Yes, Natasha trained Clint to speak properly, she wanted to ensure he was safe and in their line of work, being deaf would be seen as a huge weakness. Clint's never had hearing aides to this point (too easy to track someone getting aides and keeping maintenance on them while they were on the run), so he's learned how to cope on his own. He honestly did not hear Brian calling for him at the carnival when they were kids.

…So, yeah, this leads up to Thor and briefly mentions Ghost Protocol. Next chapter will start the lead up to Avengers and some family reunion time. Read and review, please!


	5. Budapest 2011

A/N: Sorry that I'm failing to get these up in the timeframe I set, I'm really bad at keeping track of time (mostly 'cause I'm on med leave and basically am stuck at home with nothing else to do with my time). Also, next weekend is Wizard World, so I'm in a mad rush to finish my cosplays. If anyone's there, hunt me down, here's my rundown of characters:

Thursday - Sally from Nightmare Before Christmas

Friday - Steampunk Poison Ivy

Saturday - Zangoose Gijinka

Sunday - Fraction-verse Hawkeye (yes, I'm repeating, but he's my favorite, so)

 **Warnings -** Brian curses, as we all should now know, and Budapest (Yes, I'm giving my own idea of Budapest, sue me), which entails an interrogation and non-con drugging.

 ** _|_!\/!|\|6 |_!|=3 7|-||20|_|6|-| |=34|2_**

Clint returned from his stint watching an alien hammer with complaints by the dozen, but he'd finally gotten used to his new aides and was speaking rather than signing everything.

And man, could he _talk_.

Half of SHIELD got freaked out and the other half were pissed. Suddenly, having Barton drop from the ceiling out of nowhere wasn't the most annoying thing he did any more. Coulson was scrambling, in his own well-contained, calm way, to keep Clint in the field, snatching up as many missions for him as he could. Of course, Clint chattered away on his comms, and Natasha had to chuckle and explain to Coulson that this was how Clint had been with her, once he decided she was actually going to stick around for a while.

Coulson could deal with the chatter. In fact, he often gave as good as he got.

Then came Budapest.

 ** _|_!\/!|\|6 |_!|=3 7|-||20|_|6|-| |=34|2_**

Clint and Natasha had been running a simple recon mission. Get in, get info, get out. They got in just fine, were almost finished gathering the intel.

Then everything went to shit.

They rushed outside, ditching the computers and snatching up the flashdrive that was hacking out all the group's secrets before it had finished. Clint tossed the drive to Natasha, knowing she was the faster runner and had more secret pockets than he did. That freed him up to tug out one of his guns, not having the time or space to whip out his bow and take a stance. He twisted as he ran, aiming in that split second and firing on the mob chasing them.

Two thuds let him know he'd nailed his targets, but there was still too many feet pounding behind them. He came up even with Natasha, realizing that they needed a major distraction to get the drive to their extraction point. "Gimme somethin' looks like th'drive," he mumbled quickly, not caring about his slur at the moment.

She gave him a side glare but passed a decoy drive to him. "You're an idiot, yastreb."

"Da." He twisted and fired again, bringing down another pair. "Only way." A bullet grazed his arm, and he cursed. They were getting too close. He spun, unloading the rest of his clip on their pursuers, before dropping the gun. He brought up his hands, laying the right flat and drawing his opposite index finger away from between his right index and middle fingers, then lifted a hand to his chin, pulling down and forward before tapping his shoulder twice with his fingers twisted into the sign for "P".

 _Run away, tell Phil._

She cursed in Russian but sped up, and he put effort into following her, not wanting to give up too easily. More gunshots followed them, kicking up dirt and debris from near misses, and she dug out a blade and spun to throw it at their tail, taking out one more.

Then they got a lucky shot in. Clint's leg buckled, the bullet having nicked a bit too close to the scar from Coulson's bullet a year ago. He went down hard, cursing and clawing his way to shelter and snapping out his bow, nocking an arrow and drawing back the string. He had a terrible angle on all of them, sprawled on one leg and barely able to hold the draw from the other graze on his arm.

He heard the man coming up behind him, but by the time he'd spun, he was being cold-cocked by the man's rifle.

 ** _|_!\/!|\|6 |_!|=3 7|-||20|_|6|-| |=34|2_**

Brian, since finding his brother and recruiting him to SHIELD, had demanded to be read in on as many of Clint's missions as he could. Coulson did what he could with that, giving him access to the comms on mute or setting up a tablet with CCTV access. Any time Brian wasn't on a mission when Clint was, he could be found in their shared quarters, eyes glued to a tablet as he took in whatever he could to ensure his brother would make it back.

When he was on missions himself, Coulson briefed him as much as he could upon return to the Helicarrier.

And so Brian found it strange that Coulson wasn't waiting on deck when he arrived, knowing Clint was still away. He shrugged, thinking maybe Clint had gotten back early, and made his way down to Coulson's office.

The man was barking into his phone, intimidating whoever he could to enact his will. "You bring her to me the _instant_ Medical clears her or you'll be demoted so fast, you'll think Stark finally made us that time machine he's been promising."

Brian froze. Coulson only said 'her', not 'them'. "Sir?"

Coulson glanced up briefly before snapping another threat and hanging up. "Gamble, you might want to sit."

"What happened to him?"

"They needed a distraction, and Romanov had the drive on her. Barton took a decoy drive and got himself wounded and captured to allow Romanov to make the extraction point." Coulson huffed, the most annoyance he'd ever show, and enough to let Brian know his brother was in for the lecture of his life when he got back.

If.

"Where?"

"Budapest. Once we get a debrief out of Romanov, we'll decide on a course of action."

"The hell with that, I'm getting him outta—"

" _Gamble._ " Once he had the younger's attention, Coulson stated, "You are, for all intents and purposes, six feet under. On top of that, your likeness to Barton may cause confusion and anxiety that would make things worse for your brother."

Brian opened his mouth to retort, then closed it with a furrowed brow. "Uh, what?"

Coulson's eyes would've rolled were he a lesser man. "They may think they've been tricked and torture or kill Barton. Worse yet, they may think he escaped and sound an alert before we get close enough to get him out."

"…Shit," Brian grumbled. "Dammit, Coulson, why you gotta be so logical?"

"Because otherwise, the two of you would've gotten yourselves killed years ago."

Brian sat in on the debrief, given Fury was the one supervising it and Coulson was on as handler. Natasha went through each detail she could remember chronologically, so she was winding down when she came to Clint's final message.

"He told me to run and to tell Coulson what he was up to."

"And he didn't think you'd be overheard?" Fury demanded.

"He signed, waited until he was facing forward so they wouldn't see."

Fury scowled but gestured for her to continue, and she quickly outlined her extraction. He glanced around the table once she was done, then finally stated, "Well, never let it be said that Strike Team Delta does things the easy way." He stood and paced for a moment before looking back to Coulson. "You're point on this. Romanov will be with, since she knows the layout, and you can take two others, max. Gamble," he barked, glancing to the other man, "you are to stay on campus during the rescue op." He held up a hand to stave off any refusals. "We all know you wouldn't be thinking clearly if you went in, and, frankly, the world's better off if it never realizes there's more than one of you maniacs. I will, however, allow you to listen in and follow the surveillance cams. Hell, I'll even let you play spotter from here, so long as you _stay on the Helicarrier._ "

"Yessir," Brian mumbled.

"Now, Coulson, Romanov, gather your team if you're taking one and get to a quinjet. You're authorized to leave in half an hour. I want _no one_ to know we were there, got it?"

"Yessir," the other two agreed.

Fury stared them all down one last time, demanding, "Get our man back. Dismissed."

 ** _|_!\/!|\|6 |_!|=3 7|-||20|_|6|-| |=34|2_**

Clint came to blinking, head swaying a bit either from concussion or drugs. When he glanced around and realized he was seeing two of everything, he firmly placed the blame on drugs. Concussions just didn't cause _that_ much disorientation. With that decided, he looked down at his hands and legs, taking a moment longer than it should've to notice that he was strapped down extremely well to the chair he was sitting on.

He hadn't even realized he was sitting. Damn, what the hell'd they given him?

Oh, and there was someone glaring down at him, mouth moving rapidly enough that Clint couldn't lipread.

A fist flew into his ribs from just outside his vision to the left, and Clint had to force back a hiss of pain. Apparently, he was being interrogated and the someone before him didn't like his lack of an answer.

Good luck interrogating a deaf person after removing their hearing aids, moron. Of course, Clint didn't say that aloud, he wasn't stupid, after all. He was, however, gearing himself up for the inevitable beating he'd get for his "stubbornness."

Sure enough, another fist slammed into him, followed by a boot, and the chair tipped over, thudding into the ground and trapping his right arm underneath. His head knocked against the ground when he hit, but he was already seeing double, so it couldn't have made too much more trouble for him.

Whoever was in charge had decided that wasn't enough of a threat to him, though, and his grunts picked up the chair, leveraging Clint back upright. Clint's vision swam, and before it could clear up, a pinch came at his elbow. The ex-assassin hissed, trying to pull away, but one of the thugs wrapped a thick arm around his throat, locking in place and causing each breath to be a struggle to pull in. Between whatever he'd been injected with and the decrease in oxygen, Clint was sure he'd pass out soon.

A moment later, he realized that was the exact opposite of what they were going for. His heartbeat sped up, eyes hyper focused yet mind spinning too rapidly to properly process the details he was seeing. In a split second, he took in a bead of sweat tracking down the head goon's neck, a crack in the siding to his left, and the twitching muscles in another lackey's cheek as he bit back his laughter at Clint's predicament. There was just too much information coming at him, and Clint could feel his eyes darting back and forth in a paranoid panic, instinctually needing to take in every single detail even though nothing was sticking in his brain.

Even though he could see it swinging towards him as if in slow motion, his brain couldn't comprehend the fist before it landed. But instead of passing out, his nausea ramped up to twenty and his sight was filled with spots, which his overactive mind spent an inordinate amount of time assigning specific shades of color to.

Each landed blow resulted in a shake-up of the spots and thus a restart of the color-processing his mind had, stupidly enough, marked as priority number one. He was so focused on the spots he couldn't seem to ignore that he didn't even notice the lack of blows or the noise coming from outside the small room.

Or, at least, until the door slammed open and a blood-soaked Natasha rolled in, throwing two blades into the goons on either side of the interrogator. Within the same moment, Clint's brain picked up on the metal digging into his throat, mere millimeters from his carotid. His mind quickly gave him the excruciating details of exactly how the blade would dig in, sever the artery, slice across to the second, and consequently exsanguinate him. Given whatever was in his system seemed to be speeding up most of his functions, the blood would pump out quicker than normal, causing him to pass out in mere seconds and be dead in less than five minutes.

The metal at his neck was gone, and he blinked, brain stuttering to try to change tracks from the gruesome images it couldn't seem to let go of to figure out what just happened. Natasha was kneeling before him, and he stared blankly up at her, not quite processing why her lips were moving with no sound coming out. She rolled her eyes and dragged him along behind her, having cut him free while he was too focused on the individual strands in her hair. They rushed out into daylight, where he was temporarily blinded as his eyes absorbed every single ray scorching down on them before his vision abruptly went black.

 ** _|_!\/!|\|6 |_!|=3 7|-||20|_|6|-| |=34|2_**

Natasha knew Clint had been injected with something, but she had neither the time nor equipment to figure out what. Instead, she dragged him with her towards the evac site, taking care as they crossed through the alleyways of the city.

They came quickly to a point where they were forced out of cover, and she slumped Clint down beside her, ready to check her surroundings and dash for the next available shelter. As she went to stand, though, Clint locked onto her arm and forced her down. She turned back to him, hissing for a reason before noticing his eyes seemed to be jumping from one brick formation to another. With a scoff and a curse aimed at whatever he'd been dosed with, she angled for the middle of town.

She was nearly at the center when she heard the rubble shift behind her, spinning in time to block as a lithe man jumped out at her with a dagger aimed at her heart. She almost smirked, before flipping the would-be assailant on his back, finishing him with his own weapon.

Two more emerged from opposing alleys, more cautious in their approach than their cohort, but wielding even nastier blades.

The Black Widow blew a stray stand of hair out of her eyes. "Neplokho." She looked between the newcomers, wondering which she should service first.

The one to her left flipped one of his knives and came forward, speeding up as he covered ground. Her decision made for her, she used the poor fool's momentum against him, finishing him quicker than his predecessor. The third had lunged while she was focused on the second, getting a slice in to her side as she turned. She glared at this slip-up, quickly turning on this latest attacker. Luckily, the knick wasn't deep, and the third interloper soon joined his friends.

There was a moment of peace, then a strangled yelp before a fourth stood, dragging a barely-struggling Clint up with him. Dark eyes locked on Natasha. "Drop your weapons or I'll gut him." Sure enough, yet another vicious blade was held at Clint's stomach, an arm wrapped tightly around his throat.

Natasha locked eyes with the lucky bastard, slowly lowering her hands. She raised them up, making sure to show the knife was left on the ground.

The man smirked, taking another step forward. "Seems the rumors were true. The famed Black Widow has a weak spot, eh?" He nudged at Clint with the point of the knife, earning a hiss as it dug in just enough to draw a trickle of blood.

She glanced between the two, gauging her companion's current temperament. Her head lowered as if in resignation. Then a short, almost imperceptible nod. Immediately, Clint's body went limp, his weight momentarily catching the attacker off-guard. That moment was all Natasha needed to shoot him dead—right through the forehead.

Clint blinked up at her from the ground where he had fallen when his captor had dropped. When she reached a hand out for him, he grabbed it, taking her help in getting to his feet, even though he stumbled a bit once vertical. "Wha's—Wha's goin'on?"

She let out a slight chuckle. "Glad you could join us, Barton. How about we chat _after_ we're gone, deal?"

He huffed but nodded, running a slightly shaky hand through his hair. "An'chance you gotta bow f'r me?

"...Any chance you can quit stuttering...?" She wouldn't show it at the moment, but his apparent inability to enunciate worried her. It had been a long time since he simply could not keep himself from slurring.

He scowled, bringing a hand up by his nose in the sign for P and pulling it away into an F. _Piss off._

She just shrugged. "Okay. Just don't cry to me next time you're about to be fillet."

He rolled his eyes. "Bow?"

Her eyes widened in mock surprise, inwardly sighing in relief that he at least had his wits about him. "Very good." She walked past Clint, to a slight depression in the dirt. "For someone with such good vision, sometimes you can be so blind…."

Clint drew a hand to his mouth, closing it sharply as he did. _Shut up._ "Stupid stims're messin' with m'eyes."

Her brow arched at that. "You seemed _very_ interested in the local masonry a moment ago. Perhaps you need a moment?"

He shook his head. "Sight's fine, it's focusing's the problem. Brain gets stuck'n weird stuff."

She was definitely ensuring he did _not_ skip medical this time. "...If you say so…."

The two moved into the center of the square, Clint keeping his eyes on his bow and trusting Natasha to have her ears out for any threats. He brushed the dirt free from the limbs and quickly strung it, pausing only briefly in their walk to do so.

"Satisfied, Mr. Perfectionist?"

He raised a single finger in her direction.

"Let's get moving, shall we?"

Clint nodded, stepping down into the small, sunken middle of the square and slinging the quiver over his back. It was that movement that saved his life as a crack echoed through the air and something impacted the quiver hard.

Nat looked around, spotting the group nearing their position. "Never a dull moment. You ready?"

"Do I have a choice?" he demanded as he nocked an arrow and glanced around before wincing. "Shit," he hissed.

"What is it?"

"Can't focus—no, focus's on all th'wrong stuff. Can't trust my eyes."

"...Perfect..."

"Even better? Woke up wi'out my ears."

Nat dug into one of her pockets. "Good thing I came prepared." She handed over a pair of aids.

He took them, slipping the first on while dragging a flat hand down from his mouth and slightly towards Natasha. _Thank you._

She nodded, repeating the gesture back to him. _You're welcome._

Another bullet whizzed by, grazing Clint's cheek even as he fired off an arrow back at the shooter. A gurgle and thud a moment later let him know he'd hit his mark.

Natasha looked around. "We need to move. We're sitting ducks in this clearing."

"No shit." He nodded subtly towards a pile of debris about ten yards from them. "I'll cover. Go."

Romanov quickly made her way to the debris, dodging a stray round or two en route. "...Are they really _that_ inept?"

Clint backed towards her, firing into the clump and grinning when he managed to drop a pair. "If they spread much more, I'm gonna lose my claim of never missing a shot," he grumbled to Natasha.

The assassin came as close to a smirk as the archer had ever seen. "Had to happen at some point."

He pulled a B sign down from the side of his mouth, then flicked his open hand from palm facing in to facing out twice. _Bitch please._ "Even high, I can take out whoever I set my sights on."

"If you say so. Let's move!"

 ** _|_!\/!|\|6 |_!|=3 7|-||20|_|6|-| |=34|2_**

Aaron Cross—Barton to anyone outside his family—cursed to himself while working on yet another project, this one their mower. "I think I got it working this time…."

Laura rolled her eyes. "It was working just fine before you started messing with it."

"Working, barely. Now it's more efficient." He put a few last touches to the machine before him, patting the hood.

She shook her head. "Think you've worked up an appetite yet, doing all this unnecessary work?"

He huffed. "Your opinion is _quite_ clear. I suppose I could take a short break."

"Thank you." She gave him a quick peck on the cheek as she walked past.

"So, what's on the menu?"

She called back over her shoulder, "Shower up and you can find out. You're not sitting in my new dining room covered in dirt!"

Aaron sighed. "...Talk about unnecessary…."

"That room was _your_ idea, and you _know_ it! Now march, mister, or you're not getting dinner."

He threw up a mock salute, dashing off to the outdoor facilities before she could offer reply.

Dinner was out on the table by the time he made his way in, still rubbing a towel through his hair. Laura chuckled at him. "Ran out of normal clothes to change into?"

"As a matter of fact, no. I figured I'd keep some work clothes outside. That way, y'know, I'd keep the nicer clothes nicer." That, and he didn't see what was wrong with a pair of worn jeans and a flannel shirt. They lived on a farm, might as well go for the full stereotype.

"For as long as that lasts," she huffed.

He set the towel on a rack, finally glancing at the table. "...Are we having guests that I don't know about?"

One of her eyebrows jumped up at that. "Like you couldn't finish this all off on your own." She shook her head. "Your brothers called again while you were out."

The fork stopped midway to his mouth. "...Oh? What's the story now?"

"They can't get a hold of Brian or Clint."

Aaron took a few bites before answering. "Who knows? Maybe they got snookered into another black-ops assignment."

Laura shrugged. "Probably. But Will sounded anxious, and it's rare they both have missions at the same time."

"Will being anxious is like the well being wet."

She nodded. "True, but Jason seemed concerned, too. You know how laid back he usually is, it was odd to hear."

He mulled that over a bit. "...Did they say to call? Meet up? Anything?"

"Didn't say. Will got pulled away by something mid-call, and Jason was chatting while running his diner, so…."

"So this might all be another mountain-from-a-molehill situation…."

A buzzing came from the coffee table, where Aaron's untraceable phone was vibrating across the wood. Laura glanced at him, a wry grin on her face. "Sounds like it's not."

He quickly stuck out his tongue, before picking up the phone. "...Hello?"

 _"Clint's MIA,"_ Will's stern voice greeted. _"Fury and Coulson aren't letting Brian out to help, and Romanov's gone in on her own to get Clint."_

Aaron scowled, worried for his brother and his friend, but knowing they could take care of themselves. "…So… What's the big deal? She'll have them both back in no time."

 _"Turn on the news._ ** _Any_** _news."_

Cross blinked. "Laura, mind turning on the TV, please?"

She nodded, flicking the TV on and gaping at the images shown on the news. A hand came up to her mouth as the destruction unfolded before them.

 _"They're in there, alone, and Fury's trying to leash all of us from going in."_

 _"And we've got no clue how Clint even_ ** _is_** _."_ Jason was grumbling across the third line, which Will must've set up prior to the call.

Aaron studied the screen. "...At this point, I'd say Fury's right…."

 _"...What."_ Will's voice had gone flat, obviously aggravated at his brother's nonchalance.

"Face it, Will. The damage is done—no pun intended. Best we'd be able to do now is make the local—and, perhaps, international—situation much, _much_ worse… or am I mistaken?"

There was a pause, then Jason chuckled. _"Damn, Will, Hunt's sure rubbing off on you, huh? You're usually never this reckless!"_

"Give them time, and they'll show up," Aaron assured, turning from the TV. "They might be a bit… worse for the wear but, well… it's better than the alternative…."

A click echoed over the line, and Jason snorted. _"Figures. Now he's gonna bitch at_ ** _me_** _for this even though it's_ ** _you_** _he's mad at."_

Now it was Aaron's turn to chuckle. "Just like old times, huh?"

 _"Why'd we have to get a tightass like him for a brother, huh? Y'know Brian and Clint wouldn't flip like this if one of us went missing on a job."_

"...No... at least, not until _after_ the fact." Aaron smirked, knowing they were all far too overprotective of one another.

 _"Yeah, wel—"_ There was some faint arguing somewhere on Jason's end, then he was huffing. _"I've gotta go, we caught a homicide."_

"All right, stay safe."

 _"You, too."_

Aaron hung up. "Serious, sure, but not exactly unprecedented…." He went back to his meal.

Laura sat back down beside him, watching in concern. "...Clint's there?" she asked, nodding towards the TV.

"Yep. Got himself in a bind, he'll find a way out. Or the Black Widow will."

She bit her lip but nodded. "Right." She shook her head. "Well, you'd better get back out there if you want to get any more work done before dark." Laura picked up the plates and headed to the sink, determinedly turning her back on the TV and tuning it out as much as possible.

"Right." Aaron shut off the TV on his way out. He made his way out to the barn, stretching before heading inside.

"Mr. Kitsom," a voice greeted. "Or should I say Cross? Maybe Barton? Y'mind picking just one name? Kinda hard to keep up sometimes."

Aaron flinched, immediately having a gun up and aimed at the intruder. "...Who the _hell_ are you, and how'd you find this place?!"

The man smirked. "You're not exactly hard to find if ya know where to look."

Cross tried hard to keep from freaking out. "...Not hard enough, obviously!" His eyes narrowed. "Last time, stranger: who. Are. _You?!_ "

"Fury. I believe your brothers have mentioned me."

Aaron's stance didn't change much. "...Maybe they have. Why the drop-in without so much as a warning? Ever hear of a doorbell?"

One of Fury's eyebrows rose. "You do realize Brandt has a camera on the front of your house, right? This was the only way to avoid tipping him off."

That got him tensed even more, if that was even possible. "...Tip him off to what?"

"Romanov was successful. They're en route to SHIELD medical now."

"...Okay, good. One question: why tell me first, especially so… personally?" If Natasha had got Clint to safety, there shouldn't be anything else to worry about, but Fury's presence was making him think otherwise.

"No way in hell I'm setting foot in IMF, and Walsh is currently on a case. No use telling Gamble since Coulson's getting him now."

"...Right..."

"As of right now, Barton and Romanov need to get to medical, but they'll be on leave after that." His smirk came back. "Probably a good time for that reunion you all have been wanting to plan."

Aaron huffed and rolled his eyes, finally flicking the safety back on his gun and stowing it again. "...Okay, whoever's the motormouth is gonna get it."

"...I work closely with Gamble and Barton. There's no way in _hell_ I _wasn't_ gonna know."

"...We might hafta work on that in the future. Boss or not, no one needs to be _that_ involved in our private lives…."

"Good luck getting Barton to shut up around Coulson. I've been trying since he got here."

"...Come again?"

Fury smirked. "Your brother's got the worst-kept secret crush in SHIELD history."

"...I see…."

"In any case, Coulson'll likely be dropping those two off in a few days. Probably should be a week or more, but Barton has a bad habit of ditching medical too soon." He shoved off the tractor he was leaning against and went towards the door.

"...Some things never change…."

"Might wanna let Walsh and Brandt know to ask off for a few days," the man called over his shoulder as he sauntered back to wherever he'd left his vehicle.

"I'm thinking you might have better luck with that!"

"Like _hell_ I'm callin' either of 'em, I've got a world to run!"

Aaron chuckled to himself. "You were able to drop in on me…." After taking a breath, he pulled out his phone and dialed.

 _"Brandt."_

"Will. You free at the moment?"

 _"Uh, yeah. What's wrong, Aaron?"_

"Fury just paid me a visit."

 _"Is Clint alright!? Did they find him?!"_ Of course that's all he'd worry about. Will, being the "good" brother, didn't have Aaron's same paranoia about government agencies. Even though he worked for one.

"Apparently, he's being taken care of. Course, we all know how long _that'll_ last…."

 _"Where? He'd do better with us, I can have a fully stocked—"_

"Cool it, speedy. He might make his way here after his… exit… from whatever medical facility they're taking him to."

 _"Then why the sudden call, if we're not breaking him out of somewhere or moving him so he doesn't have to break out?"_

"Thinking we could have that reunion after all, when he's here."

 _"...I'll let E—Hunt know I'll be unavailable for a couple weeks."_

"Do that."

 _"Right."_

 ** _|_!\/!|\|6 |_!|=3 7|-||20|_|6|-| |=34|2_**

A/N: Next chapter should be the reunion, I forget exactly how long it is, might be a couple chapters. Basically showing that, even though the brothers are reunited, there's still some issues to work through. Read and review, please!


	6. Farm Pt 1 2011-2012

A/N: And so begins the reunion! We're gonna see some of the issues Clint's kept secret here, along with the brothers' ways of trying to help (some work better than others).

Standard warnings about Brian's mouth (hell, all the brothers get into it) apply.

 ** _|_!\/!|\|6 |_!|=3 7|-||20|_|6|-| |=34|2_**

Brian Gamble paced the deck of the Helicarrier, obviously on edge. "Where the _hell_ are they?!"

"Patient as always, I see," Coulson's voice came from behind him.

Brian nearly jumped out of his skin. "...Very funny. Where is he?"

"Fury opened the hatch for us to dock straight into medical. They've just taken him into surgery." Coulson turned to head down the stairs to the main hub, knowing Gamble would follow. "Estimates were about four hours for the surgery, another two to wake from the anesthesia."

"You clocking that two hours?"

Lesser men would've rolled their eyes. "Given his usual propensity to disregard medical advice, I revise their estimate to half an hour, hour at the most."

Brian snickered. "...Sounds about right. How's the Black Widow?"

"Sore and biting her tongue not to complain about the sting from having her cuts cleaned."

That surprised the ex-SWAT member. "...She that banged up?"

"They were heavily outnumbered and Barton couldn't trust his eyes. She had to call shots for him for the entirety of the battle."

"...Damn..."

The door to medical slid open for them as they approached, and Romanov came into sight, dozens of small bandages on her arms and a tiny slice in her cheek being butterflied closed.

Gamble smirked. "Very stylish…."

Natasha glared softly, though the corners of her mouth did rise almost imperceptibly.

"Status?" Coulson barked at one of the nurses passing by.

"Romanov should be fine with that last cut fixed, Barton's been in for half an hour, so far no complications."

"Sounds good to me."

Natasha wasn't so appeased. "...Who knows what condition he will wake up in…?"

The nurse rolled his eyes. "Knowing Barton? Mobile enough to escape through the air vents."

"...I think she's worried that he might not be able to aim correctly to get to the vents…."

The nurse shrugged and left for another room.

Coulson glared after him for a moment, then turned to his agents. "I'll find one of his doctors. They closed observation for this surgery, but you can stay in the waiting room."

"Why the tight reign for this—how bad is he?!"

Coulson shot brief glare at Brian. "He finally okayed implants, and Fury would prefer that no one knows one of his best agents requires hearing aides to accomplish his missions."

Gamble stood unphased. "Still, they could've let family in…."

"Can it, Brian. Clint would not want you in there regardless," Romanov shot back.

Coulson had used their bickering to disappear into the OR.

"Dick..."

Natasha rolled her eyes. "What did you expect?"

"Oh, I dunno, maybe a little more flexibility… y'know, since they obviously expect us to be open around them!"

Her brow ticked up. "Because you were so very open when you went rogue to bring me in?"

"First off, I wasn't exactly rogue. Secondly, while I wasn't exactly an open book then… I didn't expect you to spill your life's story, either. Not my style."

The two lapsed into silence for several long moments, then Romanov muttered, "...They took his eyes."

Gamble started pacing again. "Yeah, well… knowing Clint, he still gave a good account of himself…." He lashed out, coming inches from creating a fist-sized hole in the wall.

"Gamble!" Fury barked as he stormed in. "I _know_ you're not putting your damn fist through my wall."

Brian met his gaze. "No, sir…. Not this time, anyway…."

Fury scowled at the two agents. "Where's Coulson?"

Nat just nodded in the direction of the OR.

Fury whirled to head through the doors just as Coulson exited. The two merely blinked at each other, then Coulson moved to the center of the room. "Surgery went well. Barton should be moved into recovery within a few minutes."

Brian chucked. "Good luck keeping him there."

"They're allowing visitors in twenty minutes, once he's settled."

Natasha nodded. "Good. Perhaps we should limit the amount of people in at one time, as well as how long they stay."

"The doctor said a maximum of two at a time, and only an hour of visiting total today. Barton's likely going to be disoriented for the rest of the day, especially once the auditory therapist checks out his implants."

Brian sighed. "...This'll make the reunion extra-fun…."

"About that," Fury began, only to be cut off by an irate Gamble.

"What? You want him back ASAP? No way, asshole!"

Fury scowled. "I was going to say, the two of you are approved for three weeks of medical leave, with the suggestion to get the hell off the Helicarrier for the duration. From what I hear, there's a place in Iowa that's willing to house you two maniacs."

Brian blinked. "…Uhh… thanks—" His brow furrowed. "—Wait a second, you went to talk with Aaron?"

One of his brows arched up at that. "Didn't realize I needed your permission."

"Oh, it's not that… more surprised you came back as… intact as you are."

"This may surprise you, Gamble, but your brother's not that tough."

"More quick than tough."

A doctor came in and cleared his throat to catch their attention. "You can come visit Agent Barton now."

Gamble went in before anyone could protest. Romanov followed.

Clint was laid out in a bed, IV line dripping still into his arm and sensors hooked to his heart and a finger. About an inch square of hair was shaved off behind each of his ears where they had worked on the implants.

Brian just stood there, before letting out a low whistle. "...Least he got a nice trim out of this…."

Natasha swatted the back of his head.

He glared at her. "Well, _sorry_ for trying to bring a little levity… Jesus…."

One of Clint's fingers twitched.

Gamble snickered. "Thought he wouldn't last…."

The archer's face scrunched up. "Shu'up, too lou'."

"I suppose that answers the question of whether the implants work," Natasha commented, voice pitched low.

"Heh. Wait till he hears Will…. Or Jas, for that matter…." Brian replied, voice somewhat subdued.

Two bleary eyes blinked open, their owner glancing at the two before him. "...How'm I hear'n you?"

"Enunciate," Natasha huffed.

"Yeah, bionic ear!" Gamble snickered.

"Wha…?" Clint was blinking at them in shock.

"You've got implants now."

"Yeah. No more claiming deafness, bro," Brian scolded.

"Too bad you can still claim stupidity," Clint fired back immediately.

Brian just stuck his tongue out.

"Boys," Natasha grumbled, rolling her eyes.

"So, how long you think you'll last before climbing the walls _this_ time?"

Clint's nose wrinkled. "'M not strapped down, yeah?" He wriggled his wrists and ankles to verify, then tried to sit up. He merely flopped to the side, groaning.

"Easy, tiger. You were under some pretty strong drugs, from what I hear."

Clint winced. "Y—Yeah, wasn't fun."

"So, rest up while you're here. Lord knows the fam won't let you off the hook as easily."

"The... what?" Clint's brow furrowed.

Brian nearly lost it. "...Hello? Jas? Will? Kenny?"

"Th—They don' needa know 'bout this... righ'?" Clint asked sheepishly.

"Can't exactly keep something like this a secret for long, especially knowing how they are, y'know?"

The archer groaned, throwing his hands over his eyes. "They're gonna be hovering, though. And Will'll have a stroke."

Brian waved a hand. "Eh, they'll get over it. Not like they have much choice, at this point."

"Whaddaya mean?"

"Fury 'approved' a few weeks of medical leave, and 'suggested' that we use it off-ship. Namely, at Kenny's place."

Clint blinked. "...We're goin'ta Kenny's?"

Brian chuckled. "Right, Einstein. Soon as you're relatively recovered, that is…."

"Ugh. Hate medical…."

"Well, it ain't exactly designed for much comfort, bro. You're supposed to be here _only_ as long as necessary. This ain't no hotel."

"Plus, a good eighty percent of the med staff feels the same way about you," Natasha added.

Brian nearly lost it again. "Damn, man, everywhere you go you're popular!"

"They don't feel much better about you," she reminded.

He just shrugged. "Ah, well. No biggy."

Romanov rolled her eyes.

Clint's eyes were blinking slowly, lids staying down for longer each time.

"Going back to sleepy land?"

"N—No," he mumbled around a yawn.

"Yep. Train has left the station, apparently…."

"Lies."

"Whatever helps you sleep at night, buddy." Brian chuckled.

"I can... sleep jus'... fine, ...if I... wan…ted..." Clint dozed off.

Gamble sighed. "The spirit is weaker than the body, bud."

Natasha stood up, heading for the door. "C'mon, Coulson and Fury deserve a chance to get in here, even if your pridurok of a brother is going to sleep through it."

Brian gestured to the door. "After you."

 ** _|_!\/!|\|6 |_!|=3 7|-||20|_|6|-| |=34|2_**

Jason Walsh pulled up to the farmhouse and laughed as he got out of the car. " _Still_ can't believe _this_ is where Kenny lives now…."

"If you don't mind, he goes by Aaron now," Laura called from her spot on the porch.

Jason blinked. "…That… might take some gettin' used to, ma'am."

She chuckled. "With all the Skype and phone calls you guys make, I'd've thought you were used to it already."

"...Well, yeah, but… it's a _little_ different being face-to-face…."

"Right, it's been, what, eighteen, nineteen years since you all were together?"

Walsh rubbed the back of his neck. "...Something like that, yeah."

Laura glanced around for a moment, then put her hands to her hips. "Aaron, get your ass out here and greet your brother!"

The front door opened slowly. "…H—Hey, Jas—"

The cop refused to let his brother play coy, immediately slinging an arm around his shoulder and shaking him. "Well, ain't _you_ a sight for sore eyes! How ya been, bro?"

Aaron Cross chuckled. "Just _fine_ , until _you_ showed up!"

Jason huffed. "Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know. What're families for, eh?"

Laura rolled her eyes. "Dorks."

Jason smirked, nodding. "Thanks for noticing."

She glanced over at Aaron. "Please tell me the others aren't this ridiculous."

Aaron chuckled. "...Sure."

"...Technically..."

"...I'm surrounded by idiots."

Just then, a cloud of dust appeared in the distance.

Jason sighed. "Right on time!"

Laura blinked. "...No. Nope. Not dealing with five of you if you're all adrenaline junkies."

Jason feigned innocence. "What's the matter? Seems you could _use_ a _little_ excitement after being away from civilization for so long."

"No, thanks, had enough excitement for a lifetime when I met this one," she replied, nodding towards Aaron.

Walsh's brow furrowed. "...Come again? What kinda excitement happens out here in Mayberry?"

She gaped at him. "You mean—? He hasn't told you—?"

Aaron let out a nervous chuckle. "...Not exactly…."

The car finally pulled in, spinning into the driveway and effectively cutting off whatever Laura was about to say.

The driver's side door opened, and Brian Gamble stepped out. "If you're so sure you're safe to drive, then I suppose you can manage to _walk_ unassisted _too,_ right?"

There was a flutter of the passenger's hands, Clint opting to answer in sign rather than aloud as he fumbled with his door.

Brian chuckled as he made his way to the house. "Y'know, you _can_ talk… _and hear!"_

Jason and Aaron both blinked. " _...Come again?!"_ They yelled in unison.

Clint winced as he stumbled out of the car. "Could, 'fore you played the radio so damn loud," he grumbled.

Walsh and Cross chuckled. Gamble just shrugged. "You're gonna _need_ to get used to those implants, dude. Music wasn't even _halfway_ on!"

"Music's louder'n people," Clint argued. "I turned 'em down so I didn't get a headache."

Brian huffed. "Whatever works, man."

Aaron chuckled. "Feeling slighted, little bro?"

Both twins yelped, " _No!_ "

Jason just laughed.

The front door slammed closed as Laura decided she'd had enough of the brothers' antics.

Clint chuckled. "So, she's not gonna make it a week, let alone three."

Aaron shrugged. "She's tougher than she looks. Might just be a _bit_ much right off the bat."

Gamble chuckled. "Looks like she and bio-boy here have something in common, then."

Clint held up an "OK" with the thumb on top at chest level. _Asshole._

"C'mon, bro, it's not like you died."

Jason smirked. "Yeah. Takes a lot more to get to us!"

Clint huffed and was about to brush past them when a third car pulled in.

Will ducked out of the driver's side, glancing between his brothers and sighing. "Alright, which one of you stuck his foot in his mouth this time?"

Jason snickered. "Why do you _always_ assume something's _wrong?_ No _wonder_ your blood pressure's always high…."

Will rolled his eyes at them. "You three are gonna give me an aneurysm."

Now it was Aaron's turn to smirk. "I'm surprised your job hasn't given you a few already."

Will sighed. "Trust me, Hunt's keeping my therapist, chiropractor, and neurologist in business."

Brian chuckled. "Right, so this'll be _cake_ for ya, bro!"

Aaron stepped off the porch. "All right, you guys, let's settle down. This is _supposed_ to be a _break, remember?!_ "

Walsh and Gamble huffed, but fell silent.

Will moved up onto the porch. "C'mon, let's go see what's managed to keep Kenny in one place."

Jason let out a low whistle. "...I'd say it's more 'who' than 'wha'—"

Aaron ribbed him. "Careful, Jas."

"—Easy, slugger. Just sayin' company makes solitude easier."

Gamble laughed. "Speaking from experience, are we?"

Jason just shrugged. "Coming from _you_ , that doesn't mean much."

Will frowned, glancing around to see Clint hanging about ten feet back from the rest. "Problem?"

Clint blinked over at Will but shook his head.

Brian sighed. "Still getting acclimated, I guess."

Aaron looked over. "...C'mon, bro! You're at _least_ as welcome here as _these_ clowns!"

Clint locked eyes with Brian, quickly making a T sign by his chin, pulling it out into an O, flicking his hands open from fists, and circling a P sign with each hand. _Too many people._

Gamble nodded, turning to the others. "...Ahh... I think he's a bit overwhelmed with this much… activity."

Aaron smiled. "Well, _normally_ I'd say you came to the right place for tranquility. 'Course, can't exactly promise much _now!_ "

Jason sighed. "Let's just go inside. He'll catch up when he's ready."

Clint scowled, putting his hands palms together, tapping them, then flipping the top one over before tapping a D sign against his nose. _Jason's a dick._

Brian shrugged. "You're the one saying there's too many people around, dude. We're following your lead, more or less."

Clint huffed. Will clapped him on the shoulder, then used the grip to steer him inside. The remaining trio followed right behind them.

"About time you dorks got in here," Laura called from the dining room, where she was placing the last few dishes on the table.

Aaron looked at the table, then to his brothers. "You dweebs want any more, you'll have to pull your weight for it."

Jason was obviously impressed. "Please, Kenny! If _this_ isn't enough, we'll _all_ need medical attention!"

Will shot a grin at Laura, claiming a seat at the table and reaching for a serving dish. "Looks delicious!"

Clint stared around at the food before looking over at Laura and signing "Thanks" followed by brushing an M sign down from his cheek and clasping his hands together at chest height.

Gamble chuckled. "...Well, I guess that _does_ describe her…."

Aaron's eyes narrowed some. "...What callsign did he give her?"

"Apparently, she's been dubbed 'wife'."

Clint blushed angrily as his brothers chuckled at him. He pulled a hand across his body, going from a fist to an L, then did an upside-down F sign at chest height before storming out. _You're all assholes._

Will winced, not recognizing the signs but reading the body language. "Pushed too far, I guess?"

Jason sighed. "Just give him a moment. He'll be back."

Aaron shrugged. "Ain't _no_ way I'm letting this food go to waste!"

"Here, here!"

Laura swatted at Aaron's hand as he reached for some food. "Hey, you've made your little brother upset. You should apologize, not stuff your face!"

Brian snickered. "Nickname was spot-on…."

"Yep!"

Aaron sighed. "If we stuck by _that_ guideline, we'd've starved as children."

She pursed her lips. "I can't believe you four. This is your first time together in _years_ , and within twenty minutes, you've _already_ alienated one of your brothers. Go fix this."

Jason smirked. "Any ideas, miss? Our experience's taught us that time's the best ally with Clint."

One of her brows rose. "Your experience from when you were _seven years old?_ "

"Well, what _else_ are we s'posed to go on?"

Brian sighed. "I'll check on him in a moment. He might need a minute to unwind from being cooped up in the car all that time, though…."

She huffed but sat, starting to pile her own food onto her plate.

Will looked over at Brian, concerned. "Does he get this way often? I thought you said he was getting more chatty at work."

"Getting? Sure, but… it's a process. Hell, _everything's_ a process back there…."

A slam echoed back to them, and all four brothers winced. "Ah, yeah," Will muttered, " _definitely_ not taking this well."

Brian sighed, standing and pushing in his chair. "I'll go see if I can throw some water on the fire."

Jason looked around. "... _Now_ can we eat in relative peace?"

"...For now, maybe…."

Muffled yelling came from the direction Brian had left in, and Will rolled his eyes. "Sounds like Clint got his voice back."

 ** _|_!\/!|\|6 |_!|=3 7|-||20|_|6|-| |=34|2_**

A/N: I fail at deadlines, sorry! So, we're starting to get into the sign nicknames here, you'll see them quite a bit, especially Laura's. I tried to make them all modified enough to be realistic to use, and I can update with clearer explanations of them as needed. For instance, Laura, Will, and Brian all have an initial incorporated into their names, thus why the "wife" sign has an M handshape at the beginning rather than an A. Um, anyway, read and review!


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